A Dark Knight Returns: Part II
by DonJuan'73
Summary: Part II of III. "For someone to be truly cured... they must have the choice of evil!" The Joker has been locked up for over ten years in Arkham while the crooked Dr. Hellfern uses a new wonder-drug. Even more questions arise for John Blake and Barbara Gordon as their fight against crime becomes all the more personal. *Chapter 13- Anagnorisis has been EXTENDED!* R&R's appreciated!
1. Expect the Worst

**I OWN NOTHING BUT A SOUL AND A LIBRARY CARD. DON'T SUE ME. IT'S AWFUL ANYWAY AND IN A FEW MONTHS I'LL DELETE WHEN FINISHED. (Hopefully it will get better as I go along...)**

**READERS, BUY ALL YOU CAN FROM DC, ANY NOLAN FILM OR THE PEOPLE THAT BROUGHT YOU THE TRILOGY. READING MY STUFF WON'T GET YOU ANOTHER FILM... I OWN NOTHING! (Why would you even want another Batman film though? I don't.)**

* * *

**Prologue.**

As she lay on the ground she felt the grimy grit on the ground mingle with the dark blood that was pouring from her right temple.

She had saved them, it was finished. She was finished.

She made a sharp hiss through gritted teeth.

The pain was so bad she thought her head would explode as she held in her screams, lungs burning.

She knew how much he would love to hear her scream. Because of him, she had never screamed in over ten years.

She built up her courage to grab near the wound on her arm, squeezing the hot bloody wetness together.

The gunshot still rang in her ears as the rain started to drop. The sound was almost comforting.

Her vision blurred as the car lights started to spin, circling in the blue dark.

With her good arm she fumbled under the cape for something, part of her knowing that it was utterly pointless. She was going to die here tonight.

She let her mind wander as time went slowly by, she had always wondered what her last thoughts would be.

"PREPARE TO OPEN FIRE!"

She briefly wondered if getting shot at in the suit would be more painful, the bullets would take a lot longer to kill.

She closed her tired eyes to shut out the miserable world that she had already seen far too much of.

It was just like Kent said in Lear, "all's cheerless, dark, and deadly."

He was right.

Now all she had to do was wait.

* * *

**Chapter 1.**

That evening Commissioner James Gordon sat dwelling on recent events in the solitude of his office.

First it had been black-masked men committing random crimes for no reason, then it was the human trafficking, and now there was a growing number of disturbances in Gotham's poorest areas.

The thing that disturbed him most was the fact they all were connected with one thing.

He felt a tight feeling in his chest as he thought about it, his breathing was becoming more restricted.

He always got that feeling right before something terrible happened.

He knew that when you were expecting something terrible to happen, Gotham never disappointed.


	2. Black Mask

The light came in through the huge glass office window as she sat opposite a massive mahogany deck.

She sat in a loose cream long-sleeved blouse that plunged down, showing a slice of her faintly tanned chest and a tight black skirt.

She never usually dressed provocatively in the daytime but she knew that no one would offer to help her if they knew that she was only nineteen.

When she left the house that morning she emerged looking like a young professional in her mid-twenties. Her face was not as youthful now anyway, the late nights and the caffeine dependency had taken their toll, taking the colour and natural glow from her face.

The man who belonged to the desk sunk into his chair opposite her. She noted the gold rings on his short stubby fingers as he stroked back is grey bristly hair.

He glanced at her hair as she reached into a suitcase for papers, her auburn hair shining like rose gold in the bright morning light.

"We will look at your application Miss Gordon, but I want to warn you of something first…"

She looked at him sideways as she closed the suitcase on her lap.

"Charities," he continued, "aren't doing so great right now, specifically the type that you are supporting. I'm sure you can recall what happened to Gotham only two years ago. The people that you will be asking to donate still remember the violence of these people during that time. Many may think they deserve what they get."

He pressed his index finger to his mouth as he watched her smooth relaxed face, smiling as she spoke.

"Are you sure that's really their opinion? Or yours?"

He shuffled in his seat as he saw her dark eyes scrutinizing him, scanning his face, suit, rings and papers on his desk. He tried to subtly hide the sheets that were lying at his right hand but he was too slow.

"Ah," from upside-down she could memorise a page of figures, "you don't have to explain Mr. Brookes… Gosh! Those figures look pretty good."

His embarrassment turned to rage as he told her that she had seen nothing. She continued to flash a dark peach smile.

"I see a six-digit turnover just fine, thanks."

* * *

Alfred stood in the waiting room, waiting for his appointment.

He was there because in Gotham you needed special permission to fundraise for a charity, reason being that in the past there had been many false charities and fundraisers that had secretly funded organized crime.

Alfred turned his head listening. The usual office sounds of telephones and typing had suddenly been interrupted with shouting.

Alfred listened with interest as it continued until the secretary who was sitting behind her desk outside went to investigate.

* * *

His face turned red as his fist pounded the table, pressing the speaker, asking for the next client.

Mr. Brookes told her to go to the waiting room.

Barbara entered the waiting room to see an elderly man sitting with his hands folded. He nodded at her politely as she smiled back.

"Fundraising?"

"Yeah." she replied.

"I'm representing the Wayne Home, you?"

"The Helping Hands Group."

She sat beside him in the soft chairs as they continued to talk.

"I hope that you get more luck than I do, this is the third time that I've applied for the permission to fundraise. I've also tried to get additional funding no one is interested."

"I didn't realise that the home needed that much help."

"The home is taking in more children every week. In less than a month we will reach the maximum number of spaces. The only other orphanages in the city can't take any more children in either."

Barbara frowned as she thought about Marta and all the poorest parents in Gotham who struggled look after their children.

"I don't understand it…" she said, "Where is all that money going to? It shouldn't be like this. Gotham is doing so well. The figures..."

"Figures on a page can sometimes be deceptive."

As she looked at the door, deep in thought, Alfred thought about how oddly familiar she looked. As he looked more closely his thoughts were interrupted.

"I think I'll give my father a call, see if he knows someone who might be able to help us."

Alfred smiled as he asked her if she know anything about politics.

"I know that the next election is pretty far away."

"Exactly. I don't think we will get much help from them Miss Gordon, there's nothing in it for them."

She sat thinking before standing up.

"Thanks for the advice. Tell Mr. Brookes that I'm leaving, I've had enough of this."

She brushed down her skirt as she put out her hand to shake Alfred's.

"And Mr. Pennyworth, if you ever need a volunteer at the Wayne home just give me a call. I have a good resume; I coached sport when I lived in Paris for six months. I also teach some day classes at the library."

Alfred told her that he'd be in touch if they ever needed her.

* * *

She sat in the library at the front desk, drinking coffee while reading Jane Eyre, making notes and annotating it with red pen for her adult day class. The library was more dead as usual.

Beside her a usually chirpy student who was there on work placement sighed as she swung in her chair.

"I'm so hungover…"

Barbara looked up from the novel, slightly irritated. Barbara had gotten to bed at four that morning, in work for ten. She had been volunteering at the soup kitchens these nights, spending most of the time trying to stop fights. The police had been closing in on Batgirl lately so she had hung up the suit for now.

"Maybe you should do something worthwhile with your time for once..."

"Uck! You are only young once Barbara… You need to go out more! Lighten up! Meet g-"

Before Barbara could reply from behind her book a masculine voice interrupted her.

"Excuse me?"

"Hi! How can I help you sir?"

Barbara looked at the student, now perky and smiling before turning to see John Blake. She didn't smile as she looked over her glasses.

"Oh. It's _you_. What do you want?"

"I'm looking for a book…"

"Obviously. Elaborate please."

He gave her a look as he noticed that there were no scars or bruises on her face now, but she did have the same scowl.

"Forensics."

"Forensics is on the third floor, it's pretty extensive. You'll find whatever you need there."

She picked up her book and red pen again before he continued.

"Would you mind taking me there? I'm looking for something pretty specific."

The student behind her gave an involuntary snort as she tried to stiffle a giggle. It pained Barbara to think that they were the same age, Barbara kept it a closely guarded secret most of the time.

"Sorry, but that's not my job or my problem."

"What? Barb, you help people with that stuff all the time!" The student chirped up, still smiling at John while flipping her hair.

Barbara folded her page as she shot a look over at her desk mate, angry at both the nickname and the fact that she was acting up.

"I only make exceptions for old folks and children, you know that."

The student feigned an innocent look as she replied, "But what about yesterday? You showed Jason Bard around…"

Barbara bit her lip with annoyance as she abandoned her book, slipping her black heels on underneath the desk. She was going to lock that girl in the storeroom some day soon.

They walked across the first floor, walking by the rows of massive dark shelves.

"I'm sorry for being a trouble." He said unremorsefully, voice echoing slightly.

They fell into step on the large marble staircase, the grey sky shining through the glass ceiling above them.

"Don't worry about it," she replied, "I'm sure we have a _Forensics for Dummies_ somewhere."

* * *

On the third floor they walked though the maze of dark shelves.

On the way there she suddenly stopped, hearing something. John watched her as she walked around a corner to catch two high school students kissing feverishly, totally unaware of her presence. Barbara raised her eyebrow and wrinkled her nose at the sight before getting their attention.

"Hello? Sweaty couple? I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from getting your bodily fluids on the Criminology books… Some hardbacks can't be replaced, they are used only for reference."

The couple turned, red and mortified. Their eyes moved to a frowning Barbara, despite the deadpan she really was fuming, her eyes meant business.

"If you want to make out in this library, head over to the _Mills & Boon_ section on floor two… Those books are beyond saving in_ that_ department."

As the couple picked their jackets off the floor in humiliation, they hurried off. Barbara had gotten quite a reputation for being the most scary and mean librarian amongst the high school students of Gotham.

Knowing that John Blake was behind her she didn't turn around but instead talked to the shelves in front of her.

"This is the section that you were looking for. I recently added some books here myself. Happy searching."

She left before he could question her, disappearing through the dark shelves.

* * *

Gotham's East End all was relatively quiet in the morning light.

The infamous street was lined with seedy strip clubs and bars. Most were dormant and still littered with the evidence of the wild night before.

A black car crawled though the bright streets before parking outside the worst looking bar on the strip.

The bar had no name. Some windows were boarded up while the intact windows where nearly opaque with filth. The building looked like it had caught fire once too, black streaks surrounded some windows and the door.

Four black suits emerged from the car, the typical gangster type. They surveyed the area as they walked.

They entered the bar to find a crumby place that smelled of alcohol and damp.

There was just a bar tender in the dark room, turning from the tiny television on the ceiling. His face was ugly and leathery. He walked out from behind the bar in silence as the four suits followed him.

At the back of the bar, doors lead them down a stinking corridor. Beyond the corridor were steps down into a lit basement.

The basement was spacious and fluorescent lighting glowed over a table and a few bar stools.

Three groups of men stood in the dank basement, a group representing each crime family.

One man stepped forward, sucking his cigarette to his fingers before flicking the minuscule butt.

Nothing was said as each cluster of men looked at the other with distrust.

The black suits that had just entered went to the small table in the middle of the room and took out a laptop, flipping it and turning on the screen. They stepped back and stood still as a green dot appeared on screen.

"Hello gentlemen."

The voice that came from the laptop had been altered. It was deep and slow.

The groups of men stood stony faced. The one that had just finished his cigarette began.

"This was meant to be a deal, not some auction. We had agreed that your offer was exclusive to _me_."

The laptop remained silent as the green dot continued to flash on the dark screen.

The other men in the room nodded in agreement.

The laptop responded simply with "I'm sorry about that."

From one of the other groups another man came forward, black eyes shining with rage he held a gun in his dark hand.

"I've paid the money. Where is my case?"

The other groups followed suit, pointing their guns at the four standing behind the laptop. Each wore a pair of large shades, their faces were relaxed.

"TELL ME! OR I'LL…!"

On the screen the green dot flashed quickly before showing a live video.

Every face in the room dropped as they looked at the screen.

Three women were attached to what looked like an old wooden park swing in a warehouse. Each was gagged and tied with a noose around their neck. Underneath they stood on a wobbly bench, stopping them from being strangled.

The poor quality camcorder was shaky as it moved around, someone was behind it.

In the silent room they heard the three women's moans and pleading as well as the sound of steady breathing.

"You all know who these women are… You will pay me twice what we agreed if your bosses want them alive. They have ten minutes to decide."

Three men took out their phones reluctantly as they began to call.

* * *

Ten minutes later the bartender above them sat cleaning beer glasses while watching the football game on the television.

A fly buzzed against the dirty glass window.

Gunshots and screams erupted from below, muffled but loud.

The bartender turned up the volume on the set as he watched a touch down, drowning out the commotion below.

The screams gradually faded into silence once more.

Before the commercial break was over the four suits emerged from the door.

The bartender looked at them this time, realizing that one of them was a woman. He knew by the look of them that they were hired killers. Killers who did it for their own enjoyment usually were quite flamboyant in this town.

The woman had platinum hair as she opened a case to slide a thick wad of notes across the bar.

The bartender nodded silently as he watched them disappear into the street.

* * *

Barbara stepped into her apartment, ready to snatch a few hours sleep before getting up again for ten O'clock.

She flicked through her mail, letting junk fall to the floor before opening a letter from the council.

"…Application has been denied."

She looked at the letter with tired eyes before tearing the letter in shreds.

She stepped over the falling white flakes and shuffled to her bedroom, shutting the door with a loud bang.

* * *

**This is building up to something, I promise! Thanks for the reviews so far...!**

**Also, I want to change the cover image for this one (****_So my fugly mug on the cover is only temporary!_****)... So who could you imagine playing a Nolan-y Barbara Gordon? Please tell, please tell!**

**Best put seat-belts on your eyes kids. Because I'm taking them on the riiide of their liiives! (Not really.)**

**DonJuan xx**

**P.S. If you are reading this and have not read the first part of A Dark Knight Returns... You are going to be confused! Read it! Read it!**


	3. The Robin Hood Complex

She was standing outside the back of an old factory.

She had been doing this for over a month now, the whole vigilante thing.

She had taken a break for almost a week; it seemed that the police had been following her whereabouts a lot more closely than she had originally thought. They had never been close to actually catching her but she didn't want to rile them up too much.

During her break from fighting street crime at night she used her time to volunteer at soup kitchens as Barbara Gordon while also investigating the murder of that young girl. GCPD was making slow progress on it, the post-mortem results had only some evidence and there were no witnesses. She would have to wait until they came up with something she could use, like a suspect before she could carry out her plan.

Tonight her first visit had been to an underground dog-fighting club. She guessed that over four hundred men and women where squeezed in there, yelling as if they were demented, worse than the dogs that they were watching.

She also had found that it wasn't only dogs that fought in the dried mud ring.

Despite the fact that it underneath an old gas station that was in one of the poorest areas in Gotham, the money was coming in thick and fast.

That was the reason she was there.

She walked about unnoticed in the dark and smoky crowd, wearing a red hooded sweatshirt that covered the fact she was wearing a ski mask and padded suit.

She had loitered near the edge of the crowd and closely watched where all the money went, to a table where two men collected the wads of money into tin boxes.

After almost ten minutes of waiting she noticed that the men were beginning to run out of tin boxes for the wads of cash.

One of them began to empty some of the tins into the sack whilst the other whistled with his fingers and beckoned a man who looked like a used car salesman.

It was odd to see someone walk so calmly out of a room with a small sack that was stuffed with cash. The fact was that no one turned their head to even glance; the whole room only had eyes for the ring.

Her red hooded head followed him from far behind as he exited out the back of the boarded-up garage. He was going towards a car parked out in front that waiting for him.

She ran for her nearby bike, sliding on the helmet and mounting while still watching the used car salesman drive away.

She had followed the car to the clichéd criminal hideout and threw her jacket off into the bushes. The factory was huge and had probably manufactured cars before closing decades ago. She noticed that vandals seemed to be in a race with Mother Nature to see who could destroy the building the fastest.

She walked around the huge building, looking for light in one of the windows while watching for guards or lookouts.

* * *

The two stood in a large room that had only a table and an old couch. Debris covered the floor and the high windows were broken, letting the wind whistle in.

Ten men in another room were counting the cash and putting it into piles. A fire burned in the corner of the room for heat and light.

"Shh!"

"What?"

"Did you hear that?"

One of the men took out his gun from a pocket.

Lately everyone had been on-edge. The three most feared crime families in Gotham were now looking for the people responsible for the murders down at the East End. They were Tony Zucco's men and it was rumoured that the Falcone's, Riley's and Maroni's had considered him to be their first suspect. And if they were planning to strike, they would go to Zucco's hub, the place where all money was collected from all the joints he owned.

The younger, more nervous looking man slowly took out a silencer for his gun.

"Don't bother," the older overweight man took the silencer from him with a shaking head, "there's nobody around here to hear it anyway."

The younger thug gulped as he nervously glanced at the door and windows.

* * *

He had just come in through one of the gaping holes in the flat roof silently. The massive concrete and steel structure was slowly crumbling away like all the other buildings in the area.

He briefly remembered coming to an abandoned place like this regularly after he was sent to the orphanage. He went there to play hooky, smashing the windows with rocks and setting fire to old sofas and furniture.

He had followed two men who had taken money from the cage fighting joint and came through the roof as all doors were heavily guarded.

There were three levels in the factory, all overlooking a massive empty space down below. There was no power and it was so dark he needed to use heat vision to see anything. He stood in the shadows unseen, watching two men walk into the factory, up the steps to the second floor and go into a room on the opposite side of the massive factory. There were about ten men at the bottom floor, heavily armed and walking about. There was no talking, only still silence.

The smoke bomb lay in his hand but before he could even begin to throw it the front doors lit up in a massive explosion, the whole factory seemed to move with the impact as the scorching inferno's boom shuddered through, roaring.

He had to turn off the heat vision as he closed his eyes, blinded by the magnified white burst of light that had suprised him.

He heard gunfire erupt and all hell broke loose. On each level of the factory floors, thugs tore out of the dark rooms, leaning over the metal railings with guns, ready to fight the intruders. The ball of fire had not even disappeared before the sound of smashing glass came from above as two shadows with guns opened fire from the roof, the only thing visible was the sparks from the weapons.

The once silent factory was now filled with deafening noise and yells as the two were shadows lowered down on ropes and shot at all the levels in the factory, causing some of the thugs to fall over the railings to fall to their deaths.

As the first explosion at the front door died down, more gunshots came from the smoking rubble, shadows moving with military precision as more men fell to their knees despite outnumbering the four intruders ten-to-one. The Batman stood his ground in the shadows and threw a smoke bomb at the intruders on the ground, causing them to cease fire as they were blinded in the smoky darkness.

The two from the roof cut their ropes as they landed on the second floor, sliding over the railing and out of ammo, the two began fighting the army of thugs that ran to attack them, only to be thrown over the railing to their deaths. The sound of pounding flesh thudded as the army of men were each disarmed and beaten unconscious by lethal skill.

* * *

When she had come in through the window she saw a large room filled with tables, chairs and sports bags.

Three seconds later she was on the floor with her hands over her head as an explosion filled the silence and small bits of concrete and dust covered her and everything else.

She wiped her eyes as she ducked down, hearing heavy gunfire from behind the closed door.

She ran over to a large pile of sports bags; unzipping one to find it heavy with the weight of money that was piled into it.

Before she could do anything else, a thug ran into the room, locking the door behind him as the sound of bullets thudding off concrete and steel rang outside.

He turned, seeing her right away and aimed, sparks flying from the handgun in the darkness.

She flipped behind a steel pillar before throwing one of her steel rods, she was close enough to knock the gun out of his hand before running at him and knocking him unconscious with her other rod.

She heard the door thud and the knob rattle as it sounded like someone was trying to get in.

Barbara didn't know what was going on, but she knew that tonight she was going to cut the heroics and grab the money while she could, Robin Hood style.

She took two black sports bags on each arm as the gunfire didn't cease and ran to throw them out of the window that she had just came in.

Going back, she unzipped the front of her suit and padded it with more thick wads of bills, zipping it up, before listening to the sudden silence.

* * *

One of the intruders slumped forward, a bat-shaped piece of metal stuck into his shoulder. The other masked shadow saw his comrade fall forward before narrowly dodging another dart.

The person in black ran over the unconscious thugs that littered the walkway, dodging darts before booting open a locked door, taking out a handgun with him.

* * *

Barbara crouched as a masked person in black stepped over the door that they had just broken off the hinges.

At the sight of the unconscious mobster on the floor, the masked person surveyed the dark room with gun in hand before Barbara lunged out of the darkness, knocking the gun across the room.

* * *

**You know the drill, feedback puh-leaze! **

**I think my writing is really awkward, but then again... I am too. **

**I know it ends abruptly but there will be more very soon! **


	4. Fifteen Minutes

Narrowly missing a blow to the jaw, Batgirl kicked at an arm as they reached for another gun that was strapped to the leg.

The embers of the dying fire shone red as they fought, they were evenly matched. The black mask had managed to almost get her into a headlock but Batgirl had used her flexibility to flip the mask into a steel post, knocking them to the floor.

As Batgirl tried to back off, the black mask grabbed her by the head, taking off her ski mask and what felt like half of her scalp along with it.

Barbara Gordon's face shone in the red light, her hair net was gone and her thick red hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was shocked and angry but the hammer that was now flying towards her face distracted her. She kicked it away, knowing that it would shatter her arm but the assailant quickly kicked her other leg, knocking her down and pinning her before butting her in the face so hard she went limp.

The mask reached for the gun before roughly holding up the unconscious face into the light by her hair, red light shone on Barbara's face as the assailant put the gun back and slapped her in the face, waking her before lifting the semi-conscious Barbara to her feet, arms pinned behind her back and forcing her to stagger forward.

Barbara squinted through the darkness below them to see five black figures fighting in the smoke below them.

"What is this?" There was annoyance in the mask's voice, a female voice.

Before Barbara could process anything, the assailant stepped over the thugs that still littered the metal walkway and grabbed the rope that still hung from the factory roof.

She swung over the metal fence, wrapping her legs around the rope and with her other hand she dragged the struggling Barbara over too, dropping her so she fell from the second story.

Barbara landed on her hands and feet out of habit but she had lost her footing because of the shock and was lying on her side, breathing quickly as she tried to get up.

She jerked her head away as a pair of boots thudded to the ground beside her.

The mask looked through the clearing fog to see with annoyance that the caped Batman, despite being outnumbered was now fighting only two opponents and he seemed to have the upper hand on them.

She uttered a noise of disgust as she kicked dirt in Barbara's face, blinding her as she tried to recover from her fall, before taking two handguns from each thigh.

"I hate killing…" she muttered, clicking a gun before walking into the smoke.

Her arm was outstretched as she aimed while the Bat was fighting the two men on either side of him.

She began firing from twenty feet away, continually shooting as she walked closer, a gun in each hand as she aimed for his back, the impact stopping him from fighting. She was five feet away before he finally was on the ground, face down.

She looked at her comrades as she dropped one gun and reloaded the one in her right hand. She gave them both withering looks though her mask. They looked sheepish as they shrugged.

"We didn't see him, the smoke…"

She rolled her eyes as she took another shot at the Batman who was on the ground. "I hate killing when I'm not getting paid for it… Who has a phone? I want to take a video of this. Bring our friend over too."

* * *

Barbara was on her knees as the two men stretched out her arms, bending them back painfully on each side so that she couldn't struggle.

"Barbara Gibson," Marta began, filming Barbara with the cell phone in her hand, "thought that she could just quit before her training was over… It never happened before and we looked for her but strangely we couldn't be finding her anywhere. _Strange_."

Marta shone a flashlight in Barbara's face as she spoke while recording. "But she has come back for her final lesson."

Barbara looked at the ground, not showing her face. They were filming her to show the superior Ghost Dragon members and probably anyone else with access to a computer. She was going to be used as an example tonight. She didn't know what to do; there was absolutely nothing that came to mind as she continued to try to hide her identity from the camera.

Marta dropped the flashlight as she paced around. "Speak to the camera _Batgirl," _she spat, "this is your last chance."

Barbara continued to look at the dried mud below her before a booted foot collided into her chest and chin. She could hear her teeth knock together painfully before getting slapped across the face with a hard gloved hand.

Barbara spoke up now, finally less dazed. "Why don't we settle this properly? Let me go and get a proper victory."

She smiled behind the phone, "You had your chance. The final lesson was to kill or be killed. You pay the penalty for deserting."

One of the men noticed that Batman was stirring, he alerted Marta who gave an exasperated sigh before kicking Barbara in the chest and chopping her exposed neck. Her head drooped down, limp. One of the men took both of Barbara's arms as the other went to turn over Batman.

Marta continued her berate, "Go take his mask off, the suit too. I don't wanna waste anymore bullets."

Barbara was pretending to be passed out but her thick padding of wads of cash had softened Marta's blows slightly. Now that there was only one man holding her she began to look for opportunities. She watched the man approach Batman.

She felt a sense of dread in her stomach as she knew that soon she would know who was behind that mask. She was dreading it because she was certain that she knew who it was and she didn't want her suspicions to be true.

The man turned him over with his boot before reaching for the cowl. Barbara watched, unable to look away.

Convulsing, the man who had reached down to rip the mask off was now on the ground. He had been electrocuted by the mask and violently twitched like he was possessed.

Barbara took her chance and threw over the surprised mask who was holding back her arms, before she whacked him in the face and jabbed his neck so hard that he couldn't even groan as he hit the dust.

Marta shot some more at the Batman, bullets bouncing before Barbara took Marta's arm, bending the gun away and punching her in the face. Marta retaliated but Barbara kicked her from behind, forcing Marta to her knees. They fought for control of the gun but Barbara bent back her arm, almost at breaking point, before taking the gun and throwing it away into the darkness with a clang.

As Barbara held Marta's face to the ground Marta struggled before giving up. "My children… I only do it for my children! What are you going to do now? Kill me?"

As she spoke, Barbara didn't know what to do. She let silence settle over them both as she thought. All the noise from the explosions and the gunshots had made her ears ring. She couldn't think straight.

The man that Barbara had left unconscious on the ground lay, eyes opening up to look at Marta who was facing him. Their eyes meet and through the mask, Marta widened them, indicating something.

Barbara looked down again to see Marta smiling before squeezing her eyes shut.

There was the sound of a small beep.

The factory around them exploded in flames from all sides, the huge balls of heat and light escaped through the steel and concrete walls, roaring with destruction. The sound was so loud that she could only hear for a few seconds before everything was silent apart from the sound of constant ringing in her ears. The force knocked her to the ground as she covered her head and rolled up onto the ground.

Peaking through her arms she saw the black smoke expand above while glowing sparks rained down over them. Fire still burned as she coughed, the air was hot and the fumes went up her nose, causing a sharp heavy pain in her head.

She staggered up before the smoke became heavier and saw the two assailants begin to run out for the exit, she grabbed for Marta in the smoke but all she got was Marta's mask.

She peered and bent down, looking back for Batman. She coughed as she put on the mask in an attempt to filter some of the hot smoky air.

She felt around in the dark, her eyes burning as she grabbed for him. She felt for his shoulders before dragging him across the ground, tucking her head down as she tried to breathe while crouching.

Another smaller explosion shook her off-balance and she shifted him over her shoulder, tucking her head in though his arm. She yelled with pain as she took his dead weight on her already beaten-up body, staggering with more speed to the exit. To her dismay the explosion had closed up the entire front entrance.

Sliding the cape over her head to block out some of the smoke, she staggered to the metal steps that were still intact and dragging him up to the first flight she choked as she could feel that he was regaining consciousness.

What was once an empty concrete room was now an assault course as they staggered over the debris. A part of the ceiling above was beginning to fall as Barbara went for the nearest window, trying her best to see. The window was blown out as Barbara stepped onto the ledge, broken glass slipping under her feet. She took a gasp of clean air, making her choke even more, before going back to lower him out of the window. He was leaning against the wall now, clutching his chest before taking out something that looked like a gun and shooting it at the ledge.

In another flash of flames and force, both were pushed out the window before they even jumped.

Barbara felt a sharp pain in her back as they fell into the night air before landing.

Then all went black.

* * *

**Tell me what you think. Follow/Fav if you want to see more action like this...!**


	5. On a Night Like This

Pain dragged her from unconsciousness every now and then. She was determined to carry on sleeping; she craved it like a drug. She was very reluctant to leave the darkness as she lay but the pain only got worse as she tried to ignore it.

She opened her eyes.

Blue light.

She closed her eyes before feeling another sharp tug at her shoulder, like a puppeteer was jerking her limb.

She opened her eyes to look down at her face. She heard herself breathe through a mask that supplied oxygen.

She closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of cold metal underneath her cheek while instantaneously continuing to feel the tugging at her back.

Breathing in and out she succumbed to the relaxing flow of oxygen that seeped through her airways; the threads of thought in her head unravelled and was forgotten.

* * *

He sat in the diner, a free man.

He came to this diner because they made a delicious strawberry cheesecake. They made it like the English, not baked but chilled. He loved raw and uncooked things- James always liked his meat rare and bloody.

He lifted another forkful to his mouth; the warm sauce that dripped off the cheesecake was made with crushed red fruit- so thick and dark it dripped off the fork very slowly.

This cheesecake really was delicious.

He looked out of the dark window, looking at his reflection with approval.

He adjusted his glasses before turning to look at the tacky diner clock across the room.

Five minutes to go.

He congratulated himself on his genius as he looked around at the empty orange seats around him. He felt that the world was in his palm. Everything was going to plan. He was unstoppable now.

Four minutes to go.

He reached into his pocket as he remembered that it was soon time for his medication.

He laid out the white pill beside his glass of water. He thought about how something so small was going to eventually tear her apart. It would eventually tear millions-maybe billions apart, who knows? His creation was like wildfire. It had found its way into almost every bar in Gotham now, the various mobs who owned them knew of their benefits.

Three minutes.

He was going to destroy Gotham and then destroy his disgusting family- the family that he had always hated, they were pathetic and unbearable. The father was a slave to Gotham, the mother was a helpless wreak and the sister embodied just about everything he hated.

Two minutes.

He looked up to see that the father was early. He walked into the diner and looked around.

James waited to see the look of recognition on his face.

It was show time for "Little Jimmy".

He lifted the last piece of bloody oozing dessert to his mouth, swallowing the sweet and crumbly forkful along with the hatred he felt for his father.

All the world is a stage and tonight he was going to play his part.

* * *

Alfred mopped the last bit of blood that seeped through the small but deep wound.

He shook his head sadly at Barbara Gordon as she breathed evenly on the steel slab, wrapped in a blanket.

John had brought her here about two hours ago. He didn't say much but disappeared before Alfred could ask about anything else.

She had been hit with two pieces of shrapnel, her armour had blocked one but a very long thin piece had lodged itself a few inches deep into her shoulder. The piece of metal was now laid on a tray; the tip was still black with blood.

The stitches on her shoulder were even more neat and small than his usual work; he had sewn her up with extra care.

She was still wearing her black suit under the blanket but he had cut a large square of the black material off the back before he could tend the wound. Her suit was finished.

He slid his glasses up his nose and took the mask off her face.

He slid his hands into his cardigan pockets as he wondered what to do with her.

* * *

Floor B. This was it.

She was down here to stay. She knew it. Those guys up at the top didn't like her ideas on rehabilitation. Not one bit.

Her breakthrough research had been stifled by them; all these loopholes, laws and protocol were manipulated by their skilled legal teams. She despised them for it.

She saw her reflection in the steel elevator as she felt the steady pull of gravity underneath her feet. She was in her early thirties, average height, slim with a sharp blonde bob.

She stepped out as the automated voice announced that she was at floor B.

They had told her relatively nothing about the Joker, just a little file full of nonsense.

She jammed the card that hung around her neck into the slit in the wall and pulled it back out.

After opening door number one, she was greeted with a guard outside a large metal door who promptly pressed a red button and typed a number into some handheld device.

She walked on through, face like stone. When someone like the Joker comes into an institution like this, everyone panics and millions is donated to the asylum to ensure that he never escapes. But that was just over ten years ago. People seemed to forget that he was only human.

Despite the high security everyone down here looked constantly tired and bored. This place was probably the most secure in Gotham. Even when the city had been under occupation all those years ago, this place had been left untouched. The Joker was here to stay.

Just like a new toy, only the best doctors saw the Joker when he first came. They primarily did it for research. Now it was a different story. He was old news, forgotten. The things that they believed made him tick had been slowly squeezed out and now he was the equivalent to the empty pulp less half of a lemon. Useless.

Having these sessions with the Joker was like a form of babysitting or talking to a lonely old person. There was nothing to be gained, it was more like checking up on him.

She gave her coat a little brush before punching her personalized pass code to unlock the final door. She walked in and waited in a seat at a table. Only one chair sat at the table, only one person would be sitting.

They wheeled him in. He was tied up, upright and muzzled as he looked into space. He almost looked mummified as he was covered head-to-toe in white straps.

She put her notes to one side as she motioned the men to wheel him over.

From what she saw he was still looking into space.

She folded her hands as she looked him over. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as she smiled. "Is the mask really necessary?"

The relaxed men who stood on either side of the Joker suddenly went stony-faced and shook their heads subtly. "Err… No, Doctor. He likes it. He's gone crazy before when people have-"

She cut him off, her voice full of authority. "Fine. I get the picture. Now, let's not be rude. Hello Joker. How are you?"

One of the men from behind again spoke up, less timid now that the subject of the mask was behind them. "Doc, he hasn't spoken in years."

"Fair enough…"

She sat back in her seat and mentioned how she should've brought the paper.

She looked at him again for a while. Watching his eyes, they were so glazed. Watching his cloudy eyes made her almost go into a relaxed little trace, like watching those statues in the museum. So still and serene until those eyes moved and her heart jumped, hands and feet going cold. They had moved so fast. Now they were watching her eerily like one of those paintings whose eyes follow you around the room.

The mask made his face unreadable.

"What?" She waited for a reply but there was none.

She fought the temptation to put her both feet up on the table and go to sleep but there were cameras.

She silently concluded that the Joker was either broken or trapped in his own head. She wasn't going to waste her breath.

* * *

***Shrugs awkwardly while rubbing her eyes* I might add more to this chapter... Review and tell me what to do next, it might inspire me or something! Go on, go on, go on, GO AN! **


	6. There She Goes Again

She sat up and looked around. She was in a cave.

She winced as she looked around before getting up.

* * *

"You took your bloody time…"

John came into the cave entrance wearing a dark coat, hands in pockets. He had just come back from the factory that currently burning to the ground.

"Sorry. I had to take care of a few things before the cops arrived. Is she...?"

"She's fine, she'll be stiff for a few weeks but from what I've seen she's used to a few scrapes. She was also carrying a considerable amount of money in her suit, about two thousand dollars."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"No, I let her rest. I'm sure it's been a bit of a shock."

"She's shocked? She's Jim Gordon's daughter, if anyone found out it would destroy him."

"Wouldn't it also destroy him to find out that one of his most trusted detectives is now the Batman?"

"But that won't happen."

"What would if she had the same resources as you?"

"What do you mean?"

Alfred hesitated before replying, "I'm leaving for Florence again soon and you know that. I don't think that you can do this alone... That's all I'm saying. Go and interrogate her all you want, but you've seen for yourself how capable she is."

* * *

He walked over the small ramp to where she was sitting. He was surprised that she had not been lying where he left her to get stitched up.

She didn't turn around as she heard him approach, her voice echoed slightly over the quiet noise of water. "Hello John Blake. Yeah. I figured it out. But I'm sure you had your suspicions just like I did…"

He narrowed his eyes as he wondered what might have given his identity away, or if she was bluffing. He also noted with irritation that she was typing away at the computer, the light from the screens made her face glow in the dark surroundings.

"What are you doing?"

She smiled haughtily as she replied, "You wouldn't understand even if I told you. Trust me; I'm doing you a favor." She unzipped something in her suit and plugged it into the supercomputer before continuing to click and type some more.

John decided to ask some more questions, still unimpressed at the attitude.

"You were trained by those hired killers, what were you thinking?"

"You heard that, huh? I thought you were unconscious after she shot you… When I joined them I thought it was just hand-to-hand combat, turned out that the training was just to separate the wheat from the chaff. I was told by Marta, the woman who shot you, that on my final week I would either kill or be killed… So I quit. I gave them a false name and address, they didn't come after me."

"And after that you became Batgirl?"

"_No_. Don't call me that, that's what the papers call me. I don't need a name." She noted with irritation that he had taken a seat now, sitting across from her with his hands folded while watching her closely. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she refused to look at him. He wasn't going to pull any of that detective crap on her.

He cleared his throat before mentioning, "I found this by the way…"

She pulled her eyes from the screen and noticed that he was holding up a black heavy sports bag. "I found them a few feet from your bike. I thought you were a lot of things, Barbara, but a common thief wasn't one of them."

Barbara looked him in the eye now and swiveled around to face him, hiding her joy to see the money that she thought was lost, but annoyed with his accusatory tone. "That money is for Gotham's poor and starving. Money is the only thing that will make a difference and you know it. You saw it for yourself the night I totally owned you on the roof."

"I don't think s- anyway; there are other ways to get the money that's needed."

"I've tried them. They aren't working, even ask Alfred. It's time to stop being an idealist. I'm giving that money back to the people they stole it from, I'm donating it to soup kitchens and the orphanages."

"Two wrongs, you won't make a right."

As she unplugged the USB, the computer screen glowed green as the mechanized voice that come from it said "Protection updated. Location secure."

Barbara looked up, imagining all the children that were probably fast asleep above them. She looked at the bag. "Keep that money, give it to the orphanage. They need it, I'm taking the rest."

"No, that is blood money. I won't let you."

Barbara raised her voice as she stood up, wincing as she moved her bad shoulder. "Get down from your damn moral high ground for once and think about what you are doing. It's what Gotham _needs_ that matters right now."

"Like what your dad did with Harvey Dent?" he retorted angrily, he had known what had happened years ago. It had been one of his reasons for quitting the force, "Because it was 'needed'?"

She froze and he realised he had overstepped the line by bringing up her father. Her irritation had risen to pure rage as she looked at him, reaching out for the metal railing behind her for support. "Don't." was all she said as she turned to walk away; there had been threat in her voice as she limped away to find the exit, ring for a taxi and to ask Alfred if she could borrow a jacket to hide her ripped and burnt outfit.

John felt some regret as she limped away; thinking that perhaps mentioning her father was a low blow.

"Hey." He called after her as she headed toward the elevator. "Your bike is outside; I thought that it would be best if the cops didn't find it, it looked expensive."

She turned, realising that she had forgotten about it. While she was still mad she couldn't help but feel some gratitude.

"Are you implying something, Blake? If you must know, I had some money from college funds saved over the years. Besides, how many millions does yours cost?"

He avoided the question as he changed the subject. "What's your next move? Now I know who you are?"

The doors of the lift opened and she shrugged before stepping in without another word.

As he stood he glanced at the computer monitor to see that she had left something, it was a case file.

He thought about the first time he saw her, just another girl at a party. Now he didn't know what to make of her. He had seen her being beaten-up and angry, seductive, violent, snobbish, friendly, stern, unselfish and compassionate. He didn't trust her, even if she did drag him out of that factory.

* * *

She walked into the restaurant, a week later. She had almost forgotten that today was her twentieth birthday. It was a strange age; she was still considered both a young person and an adult. She didn't feel young, lately a lot of old friends had been getting married, settling down. Now the future decades that awaited her seemed daunting as she wondered what she had to look forward to.

Barbara had gone to college in her mid-teens and flew through it, but she didn't consider herself a prodigy. She just was so eager to leave her mother once James had been packed off to the nearest mental institution she pushed herself to get out of Cleveland while she could. She loved her mother, she really did, but it was hard to live with her. After her parents divorce and the move to Cleveland her mother never got over what she had suffered. Barbara knew that she had inherited her father's stoicism, resulting in a lot of frustration on both sides. Barbara phoned her mother usually on public holidays and birthdays, the conversation today was about Thanksgiving. The fact that Barbara had refused to go out to Cleveland had not gone down well.

* * *

He watched his daughter walk in. Maybe it was because today was her birthday but she seemed different.

He was filled with immense regret whenever he saw his grown-up children, he had missed so much. When it came to expressing his feelings he was all thought and no action. Tonight alone had been a leap of faith for him, but he was determined to try to make things right.

He sometimes thought about how different it would've been if his wife hadn't left with them. For one thing, his daughter would not have gone to college before turning eighteen, or his son sent away to some psychiatric hospital. He still didn't talk to his wife because of that, his son was no lunatic.

As his daughter greeted him and picked up a menu he thought about how she had her mother's hair and pale skin but her eyes though were dark blue like his.

He watched his daughter as she sipped a glass of water.

"Barbara..."

"I hear their fish is good…"

Jim reached over the small table for his daughter's hand, she looked up from the menu with surprise to see her fathers face. For once the stern frown had melted into a small smile that was tinged with sadness. He decided to get everything off his chest quickly before he thought against it. "Barbara, I want to say that despite everything I'm…"

He looked down, struggling to find the right words. He loved her, but yet she was a stranger.

"Now that you're here in Gotham, I realised how much I've missed over the years. I tried to visit but that last time I visited Cleveland you were at college and your brother was… sick. After that I thought that maybe I just wasn't needed after all."

Barbara blinked, quite taken back by her father's uncharacteristic confession. Like Jim, she wasn't good in situations like this. She tried to comfort him as she knew that he probably felt guilty, her voice was low as she replied. "We were never happy in Cleveland. Mom was miserable for years, James probably was too. When I got the chance to leave I took it, I just couldn't stand it. But I always knew that this place needed you more. The year I went to college you were trapped here anyway. Mom had been pretty frantic."

He patted her hand before pulling away. Barbara smiled and shrugged, her tone was lighter. "But I'm here now. With you. I don't want to go back to Cleveland."

"Yes," he replied, looking over her shoulder and smiling at someone behind her. "We're all here."

She turned around in her seat and her smile dropped into an expression of shock.

"Sit down, son."

"Sure Dad. Barbara. Happy birthday, it's been a long time."

She stared as he sat down, taking the third seat. She had wondered why the table had been laid for three.

Jim fondly looked at both his children; his son had explained that he was fine when they had met in a diner for the first time almost a week ago. He was using medication that had worked so well that he had been released from Arkham. Jim had been destroyed when his son had been moved; he truly thought that his son was lost. He had never told anyone that Jimmy had been moved there.

For the last number of years it had been like mourning a son. Sometimes he wondered if that was why he had previously promoted promising rookie officers to detectives, taking them under his wing instead of choosing one of his many more experienced officers.

The shock had gradually disappeared from her face as she watched her brother looking at the menu, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He caught her staring at him and gave a sly smile behind the menu.

"When did you get out, James?"

Jim looked at his daughter, surprised at the tone of suspicion, "Barbara…"

"It's okay Dad, I got out about two weeks ago."

His smile made her sick. She sat stiffly in her chair as she continued, "I meant the date. Time."

"Barbara," Jim interrupted her while shaking his head, "that doesn't matter now."

She held her tongue as her fist tightened under the table, her suspect list had increased by one.

* * *

**Authors Notes/Brain Farts/Blabbing/Massive amount of nonsense.**

**So yeah, James Gordon is a freaky guy who likes cheesecake. (I was eating cheesecake when I wrote that bit. It was delicious!)**

**Barbara does not like being called 'Batgirl' because while there ****_are_**** times when her mature persona slips, she is still just as adult as most people in their twenties or thirties due to the fact that she went to college early, so most of her peers were about five years her senior. I also didn't mention that the reason she is so capable behind the wheel of a bike is because she drove one in Paris during her year abroad (driving in Paris is no small feat, I tell you). **

**John Blake is not sure what to make of Barbara. Initially he had thought that the woman he saw at the restaurant with the CEO and the disguised Barbara during ****_that_**** drugs company incident (in part one) were two different people. He's come to realize that she is a master of disguise, but that duplicity makes him weary of her. Overall there is mutual distrust and annoyance between the two. He doesn't like her whole 'Robin Hood' approach and she thinks that he's just a cop in an outfit.**

**The previous chapter introduced the JOKER. So he's basically been in the basement for about ten years, the Batman is apparently dead and so he has almost gone into a form of hibernation. "Dr. Q" as some patients call her is a young and enthusiastic doctor who isn't thrilled about getting some hopeless case that is wayyy beyond rehabilitation. (A different Nolan-esque Harley Quinn, I know, but lets see where this goes.) **

**(ALSO: John does not know that Bruce Wayne is alive. I haven't fitted that in yet but there you go. Alfred has kept the whole Bruce living happily-ever-after on the down-low for now.)**

**Ask me questions and the like, I will have answers.**

Love, DonJuan x


	7. Love & Other Medication

She scanned the _Gazette_ as she sat at the front desk that morning in the library while also looking at some article archives on the tablet in front of her.

"You look industrious," a deep friendly voice interrupted her thoughts, "it's a Monday you know."

She looked over her glasses to see Jason Bard, her regular visitor. She smiled and rubbed her tired eyes, shrugging.

* * *

The café was warm and steamy as they sat at one of the frosted windows. Despite the fact that tiny flakes of snow had started to fall that morning, he insisted that they brave the cold day and out for a bite.

Jason looked over at Barbara who was currently warming her hands around a large white cup; her thick red bangs covered one eye as she looked down. He was glad that she had forgone the glasses; they really didn't suit her at all.

She cut into her blueberry muffin before looking up, catching him staring. He smiled as he took a sip of his own coffee, listening to the low chatter of the people around them.

On other dates like this, Jason would've been flirting shamelessly. He could be extremely charming when he wanted to be. Barbara however, didn't succumb to his complements; instead they actually made her uncomfortable and cagy, so he changed tactics.

"So," she began, still cutting her muffin up into neat slices, "John Blake, know much about him?"

"Huh? Why do you ask?" Jason was surprised at the request. Usually she questioned him about cases that he was working on, particularly the Peter Pan serial killer. "I don't know a lot, he quit the force years ago. I was actually his replacement." He watched her fold her arms on the table but carried on because that he had her unwavering attention for once.

Not wanting to disappoint his audience of one, he told her what John Blake did during Bane's occupation of the city, telling her the stories he had heard from another officer who knew him. She left her coffee and muffin untouched as she listened intently.

"… Then at the last minute he tried to evacuate the orphans over the last remaining bridge, but the mainland police didn't let him cross. They blew it up even though the bomb was going off anyway; I guess that's why he quit the force. The guy who told me said that he didn't want them to die without hope," he shock his head in disbelief as he said it, "but then of course we all know that Batman saved the day in the end... I don't know what he's doing now though."

She looked out the foggy window as he spoke, looking thoughtful.

Jason could've kicked himself when he realised that he had just made John Blake sound like a really great guy, he was meant to be convincing Barbara how great a guy _he _was. "But I also heard that he's a total ladies' man, so I'd watch out." He had no idea if this was true or not, but he assumed that it was believable as Barbara turned towards him, laughing at his warning before changing the subject.

They walked out into the frosty air again, preparing to go their separate ways. She was wearing a dark blue coat over her knitted jumper and jeans, her red hair and pale pink cheeks looked so cheery in contrast to the grey street around her. He listened as she finished an amusing story; his mind focused on something else.

She looked up at him, saying goodbye with a smile as she slipped a hat over her head, a piece of hair flopped over her face as she began to walk away.

The voice inside Jason's head was screaming to stop her; he wasn't going to wait any longer.

"Hey, wait." He grabbed her arm softly, bending down slightly to kiss her before she had time to say anything. She pulled back after a few seconds, smiling. He could feel her warmth radiating on his cheek as they stood only inches apart in the freezing cold.

"See you later, Detective..." She held back a laugh as she disappeared into the growing crowds on the street, sweeping her away in their current.

He flipped up his collar in the cold wind that was picking up, trying not to grin as he made his way back to work, feeling pleased.

* * *

"What's this?" She looked around the room as he two men strapped the Joker into the chair.

"Orders from the top, Doc."

She looked at the masked face as it sat still, compliant.

"Is this some experiment that I don't know about? It wouldn't be the first time…"

She had been in this room almost every day for two weeks, it was killing her. He just sat there, sometimes watching her, sometimes not, never blinking.

She sat down across from him and folded her hands on the table before staring through his mask, into those eyes. With alarm she saw that one had begun to fiddle with the buckles behind the Jokers head. "Hey, what are you doing?"  
"Orders from the top, Doc."

She looked on as they eased it off. She had opposed the mask when she had first begun to visit the Joker, the connotations with masks and Batman made her weary. Now she was uneasy as the mask was taken slowly from his face.

He looked horrible. The brown hair, wavy and matted hung around a middle-aged face. He blinked as the mask was pulled away, stretching his mouth before sucking in those mutilated cheeks. He didn't seem unhappy, just bored and more human. "Do you feel better now that the mask is off?" She questioned. There was no answer but he was looking intently at her hands. He coughed like he was preparing to speak.

"Hmm... May I see that paper?" After a moments hesitation he added, "Puh-lease."

She looked at him, her face still and resigned she looked at his face, crinkled up in what many would consider a smile. The voice was croaky like a man twice his age.

"Why?"

He inhaled noisily while smacking his lips, looking both humoured and exasperated, "I have been in here for three thousand two hundred and eighty-seven days… I would _like_ to see a _paper_."

She wondered how, even in a well-lit room, how he managed to make his face so dark and menacing. "Listen," she said in her calm, psychiatrist voice, "I'm afraid I can't give it to you. You might hurt yourself. I brought it because you usually don't talk at all. Now, shall we begin?"

He leaned back in his chair when he heard this, his cuffed wrists shifting in the shackles while his fingers wriggled. "Oh, I don't think so… That, that's _cruel_ Doc. You stuff me with all those pills and I let ya. Hah! I-I-I think that you believe I'm incurable…" The voice had growled viciously when he said the word cruel while he still smiled, the smile so wide that it made his eyes squint into little black slits.

"Pills? Your medication is not administered orally."

"Uh-oh," his face was full of mock concern as she opened his thick file, her eyes not leaving his. "Have I let something slip, Doc?" He shifted his face forward as far as he could, grey hair drooping over, "They _lied_ to ya Doc…" his voice raised up now, his face dropping again to mock concern as he shook his head like he was having a mild seizure. "To _you_! Their own _kind_!"

She relaxed as she folded a stray hair behind one ear before telling the Joker that he was wrong and attempted to carry on the session, now that he was so talkative.

Not once did she betray what was going on inside her head.

* * *

"I want to see Hellfern. Now."

The secretary looked up, surprised to see the Doctor so livid, her face like stone and her eyes glinting. "I'm sorry but…"

Harleen, exasperated, marched on through as the little secretary shouted after her.

Dr. Quinzel had read through the records and questioned those who had administered her patient's medication. It did not add up.

"Hellfern!" She came into the large, old fashioned office without knocking, looking around to see the greying man at his desk, disgruntled already.

"Why are you are barging into my office? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Her voice was firm, "Why have you been experimenting on- without permission- one of my patients?"

He leaned back in his chair in a way that reminded her of the Joker, before replying. "What are you talking about?"

"You told me that the medication I administered to my last patient was useless and failed too many trials. Now you are giving it to the worst patient in Arkham and gradually giving him more freedom. He's apparently allowed to sit at the table now." Her voice was even with a hint of threat.

"If this is because we moved you down to the basement… We were promoting you, not trying to make you…"

"Tell me!" She interrupted, "What are you hiding, Hellfern?"

He smirked as he changed the subject again, leaning forward in the huge leather chair. "I thought that you would be pleased, we are even considering moving him to the third floor, lower security. Give him a bit more freedom. He's been very compliant lately."

She sucked in her cheeks as she paced a bit; her hair was cropped at the back so it bounced with every stomp of her feet. "Those pills are supposed to be administered along with counselling and support, besides, nobody really managed to find out what was wrong with the Joker… You could be barking up the wrong tree. _Then_ there's the morality of it…"

"Careful, I could fire you right this second Doctor..."

"You are brainwashing patients, we don't know what-"

His face began to darken as he uttered, "I'm warning you…"

"For someone to be truly cured," she continued passionately, "they _must_ have the choice of evil!"

"ENOUGH!" He barked, standing up now, glowering at her with rage. "You are fired. Out. _Now_."

She smiled as she replied. "I'm not going anywhere. If I go, Gotham will know… The world will know about you. How you feed patients drugs that are still being tested, just so you can save the money on high security, leaving them like smiling vegetables… I have witnesses and a blood sample. This isn't over."

He had started at her unprofessional manor as she walked out, not turning back as she closed the large door behind her.

The room was dark, only one lamp was on. The city glowed beyond the glass as he looked out at The Narrows as it glowed. It never twinkled like the rest of the city; a fog always seemed to rise from the river at night.

He stood, taking it all in, before taking out his cell. He was not worried about his secret being found out, there was an organisation that could make anyone disappear. Their services were second-to-none.

* * *

The pair walked by the huge steel pillars that supported the metallic ceiling, looking around as the lights dimly shone on the small mountains of crates, closed up and covered.

The night was still young, but Fox yawned slightly as a day of building up a company from scratch was tiring work for an older man. Beside him walked a silent John Blake, looking around the huge store.

"I'm sorry that we don't have anything new- just things I've upgraded as a hobby. Never did like golf much." He stopped, tapping one crate softly with his foot. "Slowly but surely we are moving most of these to another location," he smiled fondly as he added, "the new boss doesn't want her father's old junk cluttering up the place…"

"Where will it go?"

"Warehouse, Wayne Enterprises docks. I'll give you the location. Now," he clapped his hands together as he spoke up with more enthusiasm, "the upgrades."

Walking over to a steel bench was the distinct grapple gun that John had been using for the last few months. "This can now stick to anything: Material, glass, rock, the usual things."

John picked it up, inspecting it before aiming from the ceiling. Fox shook his head in amusement. Before the trigger was pulled, a thick book was hurtled from behind a large pile of crates and made contact with John's turning face. "You are touching it without reading the manual first?"

Barbara Gordon stepped out from the shadows as the thick book hit the floor. Fox, surprised and amused at the sudden assault, greeted Barbara while explaining to John how Alfred had got in contact to fit her for a new suit.

"It's a bit big, isn't it?"

John saw that she had her arms folded as she stood in bare feet. The suit was floppy and sack-like. Fox looked at the suit too before holding out a hairdryer. "I recycled an old suit onto material that shrinks to fit," he called over to her as she was reluctant to move from the shadows, "in the old days I would've probably had some fancy machine but I'm afraid all I have is this now."

* * *

**Hello! So, I'm writing along and I realize that I've made so so so many mistakes as I look back on all my stuff. ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU WEEP. **

**On the upside I dyed my hair red (sort of by accident). But as you can see from my profile, I'm quite happy to be gingaaa.**

**Also, my sister is literally only beginning to read my Batman fanfictions now. IT'S BEEN LIKE, TWO OR THREE MONTHS. She is the reason that they ****EXIST****. (Not that ANYONE notices they exist... I might throw in the towel because NO ONE IS GIVING ME FEEDBACK. I'M AN AUTHOR ON THE EDGE. I'LL JUMP I TELL YOU!**

**You guys won't even get to see: a big car chase, more explosions, heartbreaking moment, romance, family feuds, bullets, Joker getting... Yeah. I might not finish it.**

**Ciao? Forever?**


	8. Engineering

"He's not happy, is he?"

Fox looked up at Barbara, smiling as the dryer whirred. The suit was slowly shrinking and her delicate frame was now considerably bulkier with the armor. He adjusted the glasses that perched on his nose. "He's got a lot on his mind, he'll come round."

"Hah," she said while inspecting her arm, "_He's_ got a lot on his mind? I'm the one with the day job, remember?"

"Maybe so…" Lucius scanned over the things that Barbara had accumulated. Thick books about both electrical engineering and mechanical engineering were in large piles. While he admired her independent streak, he worried that she was taking too much on; when he looked closely he could see that her eyes were slightly red. "You've been here for a few hours. You better get some rest for tomorrow."

"No. I'm not finished, not yet."

He shook his head as she finished with her torso and walked over to the desk where three computers resided, plugged into the metal pillar behind. "Well, try not to stay too long. You gave the night guards quite a shock the other night."

"It's okay, I finally finished this..." She waved a piece of make-shift hardware that had a long wire attached to it. Fox held it up to the light, squinting through his glasses, examining the portable device with his professional eye.

"I've seen this done before with hotel cards. Each of the locks has a cryptographic key that's required to trigger the "open" mechanism. The string of data is stored in the lock's memory. But this one is by far more complex. I'm impressed Miss Gordon."

"It's not that impressive, I have complete access to your systems in here. I want to try it out elsewhere, find the best in the city, and then crack it. When I do that, I could override all the locks like this for the rest of the city."

Fox took off his glasses as he leaned on the desk slightly. "Why the sudden interest in this? And what if it got in the wrong hands?"

* * *

John walked over, from behind the nearby pile of creates. He had put away Fox's new gadgets and put them in cases to take with him. He had heard a little of their conversation and had grasped that the device was probably the equivalent of a spare key hidden under a welcome mat.

Fox turned to see John walking towards them. "Well, it's late. I better go before they lock up. My daughter gets suspicious when I leave afterhours…"

Barbara offered to remove the evidence, but Fox declined and with a tired smile he was gone.

The pair said their goodbyes as he left in the direction of the exit.

A silence settled over them as Barbara cracked open a book, scanning over it before looking back at a circuit board in front of her. She took a sneaky look at his face under the low light before returning to her page, biting off the lid of her pen to highlight some notes.

There were three large desks in her corner, one for computers, one for electronics and the third was covered in pieces of metal, tools and boxes. At this desk he also found two dismantled black masks and what looked like dismantled radios. He picked up the sheets of paper that was lying beside the masks; it was about the recent advances in digital radio encryption. He could see notes written beside it, her handwriting could only be described as hieroglyphics.

She looked over to find him examining what looked like a long thin bullet at the third table. "Hey! Don't touch that! It'll blow your fingers off!" She got off her swivel chair and walked over while slipping on a heavy glove. She slowly took the bullet-shaped piece of metal off his open palm with her thumb and forefinger before setting it back in the padded box.

"Why do you have explosives lying around?"

She rolled her eyes while tutting, "If I had known that you were coming I would've put a child lock on. They're small explosives, for manual padlocks and doors. I haven't properly tested them yet."

In the dim light she stood in her new suit. Fox had adjusted the design and John saw that the joints and torso were covered in smaller and thinner armor plates, allowing for more flexibility.

She moved her shoulders up and down again as she tried to get used to the restriction that she felt. While the suit was a hassle to zip up, she had to admit that it was mostly comfortable and neither too hot nor cold. She constantly resisted the temptation to give her reinforced breastplate a knock with her knuckles, like Tarzan.

When she looked at her reflection earlier, she noticed how intimidating she looked, even without a mask. The boots that Fox had made had very thick silicone heels, giving her an extra few inches and balanced out her new bulkier frame. She liked the fact that she was now almost as tall as John, now that they were only feet apart, she could look him directly in the eye as they conversed.

"Don't you care about your family?"

She was caught off guard by the sudden turn of conversation. Barbara's smile dropped as she replied. "Just because you have a family, it doesn't necessarily mean that you have someone that cares about you."

"The time when you were gone, Jim…"

She shook her head as she looked down again. "He would've done the same for a stranger and you know it. But I suppose it's always been like that." In her sleepy daze her mood had taken a sharp turn. He noticed that bitter tone of hers creeping in as she continued, looking down at a box of assorted wires, "When I left for college I expected that they'd call every day, worried about their sixteen-year-old daughter who was miles away. After the first semester, they don't call you in over two months and you start to wonder if they care that you come back at all."

John was silent as he knew what it was like. It was hard sometimes, knowing that no one was really concerned about you.

"But then you get used to it," she pulled her mouth into a smile, "it becomes freedom."

She looked up when he didn't reply and apologized before taking off her reading glasses. She had read up on John Blake and knew about his past, it was all on file. She had almost forgotten that he was an orphan and his history was far more tragic that her own. No matter how distant and uninvolved her parents had been, at least she still had them.

John knew what she meant by her apology as she began to lock up a suitcase that had been lying out on the desk. "I guess I have nothing to tell you about myself that you don't already know."

Barbara looked down again, almost embarrassed. He didn't seem angry but she did feel a bit guilty about snooping.

"It was more of a background check, really." She paused before cautiously continuing with, "It must've been horrible." She was unhappy with the inadequacy of her sentiment as she got up. "I'm going to take this off then go home and get some sleep. Apparently I'm in desperate need of it." She paused before remembering something. "Don't leave without me; Miss Fox isn't like her father. She will ring the authorities if she is alerted by the night guards again."

She walked away but John still had something to say.

"Barbara?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to do this. You're not a loner, you have a family, and you're so smart you could be anything you want. If something happens to me it'll be okay because there's nothing else for me."

Simultaneously touched by his concern and suspicious that he was using another tactic in an attempt to make her quit, she replied. "Bruce Wayne was a billionaire playboy, he had plenty to live for too." She sighed before continuing, "This is what I want," she swept her hand around her suit, "I want to finish what I started. You may think I have it all, but it's worth nothing if you're unhappy." With a grim smile and a shrug she walked away.

* * *

The room was stale and cold; tiles were grey, cracked and dirty. There was only one light far above her that flickered as her eyes darted around, both faintly red from the tears of shock from earlier.

Doctor Quinzel sat gagged and tied to a chair in what seemed like an old empty community swimming pool. She glanced over to see that her captor was sitting on an old lifeguard chair, gun poised in his hand. Every move she made echoed in the old place.

She had gone home that night to her modest apartment, opening the door to get a rag of chloroform shoved in her face. She knew that her boss was a rather questionable man but she had never suspected that he might hire people to kill her.

Suddenly, an outside door opened with a creak. She waited as she heard footsteps coming closer.

James Gordon strode in, totally transformed from when she last knew him. Usually there was always something off about the way he looked. Now he looked like your average handsome all-American citizen. He stood taller and had brought some proper clothes. If it weren't for the glasses she wouldn't have recognized him at all.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Doctor!"

She kept her voice steady and quiet, they hadn't done a good job of gagging her and she wriggled the material out of her mouth and onto her chin. "James?"

He smiled as he looked down at her before climbing down a ladder that once was at the deep-end of the pool. "Your boss wanted you dead, you know." He continued talking in a voice that almost seemed mechanized, like a polite pre-recording on an answering machine. "He picked the best money can buy; he was willing to spend quite a lot of money on you!"

"Why am I here then? Are you going to kill me James?"

"No, I'm not. I am cured, remember? No, I saved your life Doctor. "

"How?"

"Oh." He replied. "Because I _own _the people who were meant to kill you."

He smiled as he saw her face. It had been grazed slightly and her small mouth was pursed. He really did enjoy looking at her. He hated trying to read emotions when he was pretending to be cured but with Harleen he didn't. She had a magnificent poker-face. Sometimes he wondered what he would have to do to her to get her to show some real expression. He had concluded that she would either make the worst victim or the best.

* * *

**Ta for the reviews! They keep me going! No reviews/favorites/follows= no motivation = no chapters y'all.**

**So, recently I just discovered what "shipping" was (SHOCK! HORROR!) and so I have concluded that I am a Dick 'n' Babs shipper.**

**Sorry for typos and dodgy spacing and whatever else I do wrong!**

**And Ben Affleck for the new Batman? Meh. Michael Caine better be in it, that's all I'm saying!**

**Suggest what I do next btw. I'll be darned if I know!**

**DonJuan x**


	9. Strangeways, Here We Come

She walked in, dressed now in her usual tight jeans and green knitted jumper, the suit was safely stored in a cabinet. Her tired eyes scanned the storage space and found John sitting at her computer desk. She looked over his shoulder and could see immediately that he was spying on someone in GCPD. He spoke without turning around. "Someone is on to us… They are looking at the evidence and our activities, even guessing our lifestyles."

She bent down to look at the screen, her stomach knotted at the sound of his voice. She looked at the glowing screen as someone right this second in the MCU was typing little notes, searching for possible suspects, times and places while gridding them up, making complicated charts that looked for patterns. The file had been titled 'J.B.'

"Shi- Sugar." She pushed the seated John Blake aside so he wheeled out of her way, giving her full access to the desk. She tried to control the panic in her head. "Okay, it's okay. I'll check the ID and we'll fix this. Yes."

He watched her as her tired eyes were now bright with focus and her fingers blurred over the keys. As she spoke it seemed that she was using the calm and comforting words for her benefit more than his. He watched the screen as something loaded and then the ID finally appeared. He didn't need to be close enough to read, he could see the familiar face of Jason Bard, a detective in the Major Crimes Unit.

"Jason Bard. J.B…" Barbara looked relieved as she straightened up with a little exhale.

John still looked perturbed as he looked at the screen, brooding. "Those notes of his still look suspicious." He slid back over to the centre of the desk and looked again at Jason's activity. They both watched in silence as the words appeared on screen. There was a list of dates and times with initials and question marks.

"Come on, it's late. We're just paranoid." She stopped speaking abruptly as Jason continued to type. The next two words were typed with hesitation, backspaced before being retyped, then deleted again.

They didn't make a sound.

Jason wasn't typing the true identity of the new Batman.

"Barbara…"

Barbara looked over at him, both guilt and shock on her face.

* * *

Detective Bard was eating a sandwich as he sat at his desk. He shared this office with a few other detectives but they had left hours ago. He was feeling bored and considered getting up to give someone a visit, Jim Gordon was probably lurking about somewhere with those cherished case files of his. Bard had been visiting the Commissioner more recently lately, although his motives weren't strictly professional.

He had been up late and had been pulling information together, creating graphs. He had been playing about with it, collecting the information from various sightings and witnesses. Batgirl's activity had a pattern and he noticed that she was only active on certain nights. He had guessed things like her sleeping pattern and possible jobs that she might have. From this he had found that she had a job that didn't require early mornings, it was a six-day-working-week although it seemed that she didn't work on Wednesdays. It was very intriguing.

Batman on the other hand was out almost every night, mainly unknown to the public. This Batman seemed to keep his head down but he could tell that he had been there. The other night a few members of a crime family had been apprehended in the narrows and it was obvious who was behind it.

Jason didn't particularly like or dislike batman. He wasn't born and raised in Gotham, he had been born in a small town and so the masked vigilante hadn't been a part of his childhood like most of the other officers he knew. Jason's idol while growing up was John Wayne.

He leaned back and thought about Barbara. There was a fundraiser coming up that was being held by the man who had donated millions to GCPD's technology and computer systems, and Jason thought that it was the perfect opportunity to try to score some brownie points with the Gordon's.

"Bard?"

Jason jumped slightly as the gruff voice came through the dark. Jim once told him how the Batman had a knack of surprising people; Jason personally thought that the Commissioner wasn't far behind with that particular talent either.

"Sir?"

He hit the backspace bar as he realized that while he had been dreaming he had absentmindedly typed Barbara's name.

* * *

They stood staring at each other in rage. Another one of their fights had come to a pause and they were silent because they were both trying to control the urge to scream at each other. He had basically accused her of sleeping with the enemy and Barbara had almost lost it as she told him that his accusation was dumb and offensive.

The eye contact was suddenly broken as her back pocket began to buzz, breaking the silence.

She impatiently reached for it and tapped at her phone before looking up. "It's Jason."

John sat down again as she answered. He rested his elbows on his knees as he looked up, brow furrowed in expectancy. He could hear Jason's voice buzzing as she answered.

"Hello? Hey," she gritted her teeth as she paced a little as she listened for a few seconds. "Uh-huh. Yes. Friday night?" She gave a little laugh that almost sounded painful. "Yes. I will. No I just woke up. It's okay." She paused as she listened some more. "When will you pick me up? Okay. See you. Yeah, same to you! Bye."

She let out a long breath that she had been holding before giving a weak smile.

"Well? Is it all over?" He was solemn. "Is he going to question you?"

"Would you ask a suspect out on a date?" Barbara replied; hand on hip as she flipped her hair while striking a pose.

"He did _what_?"

Barbara gave a little spin from pure relief while John leaned back in his chair with a creak. He watched her as her carefree smile turned serious again. She folded her arms as she thought about how easy it all could've turned bad. She resolved to make sure that she would never become a suspect, somehow. She would have to do it fast.

* * *

Black Mask. That's what they called him. He was the one who started it all, all this crazy fighting.

Marta had just called her youngest child to wish her sweet dreams. The little voice was soft and happy; she was safely tucked up in bed. The new apartment that they resided in now had no damp and was more than twice as big. Her husband would never find them now, lucky for him- if she ever saw him again he would be torn apart.

She walked in through the back of the old hotel, stomping through the huge grimy old-fashioned kitchens. She felt tired and it wasn't even midnight yet.

The Black Mask was her employer now, no one knew where the money he gave them came from, but it was obvious that he was some sort of criminal genius.

The Ghost Dragon gang had been hiding at this old hotel for a few days now, waiting for the worst of the fighting to end. Each member of the gang was too precious to be killed in crossfire. They were not your average thugs. They had been selected carefully and some didn't even have a criminal record. Most were there because there was no other way of earning a decent living.

Marta was not the official leader, but after the incident at the old factory with Barbara and Batman, she had proved that she was a force to be reckoned with. Her style of fighting was lethal and her skill with any weapon continued to improve. She shot first and asked questions later- she had excellent aim.

She walked in through the door to what was once a dining room. The men turned as they stood in a loose group. She stood as she looked at each man before seeing a table that had a few bottles of liqueur. She filled a plastic cup with amber liquid, taking her time while they waited for her to speak first. Like Master, she was a charismatic leader who employed a faint touch of theatricality to gain the loyalty and admiration of her comrades.

"So," she began, "where is this new list?"

One of the men stepped forward with an expensive laptop. It was an email. She read it before knocking the cup back and throwing it on the ground. "Go and find some new guys, pay them for a few weeks and drug 'em. Get a few more than usual. We're going to the madhouse, apparently."

* * *

**Yes, this is building up to something. I also say hello to my sister J. She has finally read all of this fanfiction and she likes it a lot! (She's easily impressed)**

**Sorry for all my mistakes. I keep seeing new ones! When I finish I'll try to fix them? Or it'll be just deleted. I don't know. Anyway, I still have a long way to go! I aim to finish this before September ends. The whole thing. **

**DonJuan x **


	10. One (Blake's Got a New Face)

Sneaking into Wayne tower was extremely difficult though the day, but she had made it despite walking though a sea of black suits in a green jumper and jeans. Wednesday was her day off and she usually spent it sleeping. She had practically thrown herself out the door that morning.

She had managed to get an elevator that was almost empty that morning, trying not to look suspicious as she got off at the basement floor.

While "Batgirl" wasn't a suspect yet, there was still a chance that Bard would start to suspect her eventually. She had decided to use the upcoming fundraiser to eliminate any suspicion.

* * *

She sat opposite "The Bat" with a thick manual that only covered the basics. More information was probably locked away in some archive, but the thought of looking for it made her grumpy just thinking about it. She flicked over some pages as she considered abandoning her recent resolution to cut back on her caffeine intake. She let out a huff as she decided to leave the manual for once and got up to take a proper look at the aircraft.

Fifteen minutes had passed and she was sitting in the cockpit, looking at the manual again. It was clear that there was an autopilot function as she looked at the complicated dashboard and the components that enabled such a function. She looked back at some records and something that Bruce Wayne had signed. Exasperated, she leaned back in the chair and decided to take a short power nap.

Three hours later Fox walked in to find Barbara Gordon curled up in the Bat, sleeping soundly before stirring as he turned the lights brighter.

She rubbed her eyes as piece of now fuzzy hair stuck to her cheek. "Lucius."

He smiled as he saw that the manual had slid out onto the floor and now lay in a pile. Fox noticed that she had been looking at a report that he had previously thought had been well hidden. "Been busy?" He asked innocently.

She tried to guess the time as she shivered slightly. "Yeah, I actually want to ask you a question. These papers contradict each other, the manual says that there is no autopilot, this sheet says that the stabilization software is broken and the last says it's been fixed- signed by Bruce Wayne." She shook her head as it made no sense to her. "If there was an autopilot, Bruce Wayne would'nt've needed to…" She shuffled in her seat because she didn't want to upset Fox, he looked perturbed and she didn't want to bring up the subject of Bruce Wayne's death.

Fox leaned on his cane as he reached for his bow-tie, loosening it slightly while looking guilty. "Maybe I was naïve to think that you would never find out."

"Huh?" Barbara wondered why he looked so guilty. She had been expecting a look of sadness or even regret. Fox looked up at her, pausing a little as he spoke.

"I think it's time I told you the truth. Alfred hasn't told you anything, has he?"

Barbara knitted her brows as she wondered what Fox was hiding from her. "Told me what?"

* * *

The blue light of the evening lit the darkening city as amber street lights lit the drenched sidewalks that had just been coated in a shower of rain. The early December evening was cold and uninviting as Barbara waited for her date, nervous.

She was wearing a deep purple dress that revealed much more skin than usual, on account that the previous beatings and burns her body had suffered had more or less healed. Alfred had given her an excellent homemade concoction recently that had even healed the deep gash in her shoulder.

Tonight she was full of anticipation as she shifted from one foot to the other, her mind going through everything she had been planning. Tonight she was going to kill two birds with the one stone- figuratively of course.

She saw her carriage approach from her apartment window as she looked down to see the taxi pull up to the sidewalk with a squeak.

She left her apartment and tore down the stairs as she threw on her coat. She patted her hair as she saw him waiting under an umbrella outside. Pushing the heavy door, she emerged into the cold air to greet Jason. Her red hair hung wavy over one shoulder and her bangs threatened to cover one eye as she constantly had to sweep it out of the way.

They shuffled to their taxi quickly as the damp cold chilled them to the bone. As they walked Jason talked out of the side of his mouth, imitating a man out of a film noir movie. "Ya clean up good, doll face."

"Not so bad yourself, kid." She replied in a similar imitation, winking she slid into the car.

* * *

She walked in and unbuttoned her coat as Jason took it and gave it to one of the attendants. He gave a low appreciative whistle and Barbara rolled her eyes at him while shaking her head. As they linked arms and strode through the large entrance hall, Jason looked down at Barbara once again. "How do you do it?"

"Huh?" She looked at him with her dark sultry eyes.

"Everything!" He motioned to her hair, dress and face. "Who are you, and what have you done to the Barbara Gordon that I know?"

Her full red lips gave a smile as she shook her head. "Think of it like an upgrade, like I'm Barbara Gordon version 2.0 tonight!"

He shook his head as he laughed, amused that despite looking like a cover model, she was still a massive nerd at heart.

The party was in some penthouse and she almost tripped as her heels sunk into the incredibly thick carpet. If she hadn't been so perturbed about her plan, she would've been furious at the fact that this charity was donating to some infant nutrition cause. She mused that Gotham's infants wouldn't need nutrition if their parents got some help. They were throwing money at some temporary solution instead of donating a more substantial amount towards a more permanent solution. She sighed as her mind went back to the plan that she was soon going to execute tonight.

* * *

That afternoon John Blake had visited Wayne Tower to take the grapple gun that he had forgotten to take with him previously. His suspicion was immediately sparked as he had found that the grapple gun, some sticky explosives and her piece of homemade hardware had gone missing along with her suit. It didn't take him long to guess what she was planning.

He had tried ringing her and visited her apartment. Finding that no one was home he had decided to go to the place that he definitely knew she would be later that evening.

John had decided to crash the party the old-fashioned way, ignoring the high-tech equipment that Barbara used to go wherever she wanted. With Alfred's help, John was now dressed in a new fitted tux as he entered with a crowd of latecomers, getting by the security at the door without trouble, blending in with the polished group that crowded into the elevator, bound for the top floor.

He entered the party to see a large crowd of standing people, loitering as they munched and talked their way through the first few hours. It was looked so mind-numbingly boring he found it hard to envy them.

He was offered a glass of champagne and took it, not taking a drink from the glass flute. He looked around as the tinkle of a piano mingled with all those high, eloquent voices that weren't unlike Barbara's in their clarity and politeness.

After a few paces around the room he didn't see her, although he did see the Commissioner. As usual he looked like he had been dragged there while the new Lieutenant beside him laughed like a fool at some joke an old short fat guy cracked. He turned away, not wanting to be seen before coming face-to-face with Barbara Gordon. She looked at him in surprise as he stared. Men always stared Barbara Gordon version 2.0.

She had darted over to John while Jason was busy talking to some judge, knowing that John was probably looking for her. She noted that he was looking pretty sharp, a change from the usual stubble and slightly messy hair she was accustomed to.

"What are you doing here?" She glanced around before dragging him by the sleeve, to the edge of the crowd. His voice was low, which was good as she knew that that rough-part-of-the-city drawl of his would get them noticed faster than anything else.

"I came here to ask you the same question."

Before Barbara could reply a waiter came over and offered them a plateful of fancy canapés. They smiled and refused, attempting to look like regular guests. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot Barbara quickly replied that it was neither his concern nor business.

"You're crazy," he retorted, "I looked it up, some personal security agency that's three buildings from here is your target." She opened her mouth but he cut her off. "You left an article cutting on your desk."

She cursed herself for the simple error before listening to him promise her that she was not leaving the building before taking a drink of champagne. She remembered reluctantly how fast his reflexes where before looking over her shoulder. Jason Bard cut through the crowd as Barbara replied though barred teeth, smiling at the approaching detective. "I'd like to see you try _Robin_."

"I wondered where you got to…" Bard came over, his friendly smile slowly turning steely as he saw John.

Barbara smiled and shrugged, the awkward situation had made her drop the sophisticated persona for a moment. "I was looking for the host and bumped into my ol…John Blake."

John had forgotten how much he hated champagne as he watched the flustered Barbara try to string words together, if the situation had been different and he might have even found it funny. But it wasn't, so he didn't.

"What have you been doing with yourself, Blake?" Jason narrowed his eyes for a second as he said it, in his interrogation mode. He was suspicious already.

John replied with something vague before Barbara added hastily that they both volunteered at the Wayne Home. "You volunteer there too?" Jason was partly surprised and impressed that Barbara could find the time to donate so much of her time to those in need. "What do you two do there?"

"Coach." Barbara replied, the lies were coming to her easily now as they were slowly becoming half-truths. She was going to start tutoring some older kids after Christmas.

"We coach ball." John elaborated.

Before the interrogation could continue the sound of a microphone squeaking sounded with a piercing squawk that made everyone wince.

The three turned as an elderly man stood at a podium with shaking hands, slowly putting on his glasses with shaking hands before taking out a handful of notes from his breast pocket. Every heart in the room dropped as they watched him slowly begin, his introduction speech was probably going to take thirty minutes alone.

"I'm going to err…powder my nose." She whispered to Jason, leaning her mouth very close to his ear. From here he could smell the vanilla of her perfume.

John knew what she was doing as he saw her sly move. He couldn't possibly drag her back or even touch her with that asshole Bard in the way.

As he thought wistfully about using a smoke-bomb to get away, the thought struck him that he had brought a few things with him- he had decided against underestimating Barbara again, she had a habit of surprising him. He reached into his pocket, as if for a pen before clicking a small button. The softly lit room was suddenly plunged into darkness and a few screams and laughs were heard.

He walked through the darkness purposefully as he used a pair of small night-vision binoculars to get though the crowd.

* * *

**So yes, ransom time! Favorites/Follows/Reviews in exchange for the next chapter. **

**My word is my bond. **

**DonJuan.**

**P.S. The title of this chapter is actually a (catchy) song by Vampire Weekend. Just in case you think I'm just being strange.**


	11. Keep On Your Dress

**Thanks for the reviews, you flatterers! I would really like some criticism too! **

* * *

Up at this height, the air was always chilly. The wind had picked up and it made her feel a little nervous in the pit of her stomach.

She fumbled with her suit as she kicked the dress off her other leg. She thought that it would've been easy to whip off since it was backless, but apparently she was wrong.

She stumbled over the gravel, furiously fumbling for the zipper that closed the back of her suit. She looked for the other black bag that she had left behind an air vent that morning, and unzipping the bag, she took out a gun, aiming before shooting at the building opposite. The loud hiss of gas from the gun was all that was heard as the rope went taught. She attached the rope to a metal pipe before reaching into the black bag again, sliding on a harness before attaching it securely to the line with a click, screwing and loosening it a little.

As she stood on the ledge she put her mask on; it was not unlike Batman's as she didn't have the time or money to mould a different one. She had replaced the old ears of the mask with smaller ones that still operated the same while being more practical.

"Geronimo." She muttered, letting out a breath that she could see in the dark air.

She ran a few metres and leaped off the roof, arms spread. She did it before she could think properly about the height and possibility of failing, propelling herself so that she zipped over the heavy and bright city traffic that was countless stories below, hissing on the drenched streets.

Seconds later she felt the feeling of glass beneath her silicone feet as she stood on the window like she was abseiling. This was going to be the tricky part. She reached for a button in her helmet, pressing it so lenses came down, allowing her to see through the dark night clearly. She took out the gun again, her hands slightly shakier now as she felt the freezing air on her face and the sound of sirens in the distance. She aimed for her destination. It was very far away but now in her sights.

* * *

He climbed up onto the roof, feeling the gravel crunch under his shoes. The roof was illuminated by a few spotlights, allowing him to put away the night vision. He ignored the cold as he walked around the parameter, looking for her. He called her name quietly before treading over something soft on the ground. He picked up the cold, heavy, slippery material that blew like a dark flag in the night air. He realized that it was her dress.

"Great." He said, looking out at the vast cityscape that surrounded him, glowing and faintly noisy.

He spotted a rope that had been attached to the huge glass building opposite and he gave up on getting her back. He sat on a metal railing as he sat down with her discarded dress in hand.

He wasn't sure if he wanted her to succeed or not, she was going into some personal security agency and who knew who their clients were in a place like Gotham.

He didn't like the fact that he had to sit back and wait. Her target was blocked from this view-point by the building beside, so he couldn't watch from here.

* * *

Barbara had finally made it to her destination. Her aim was not terrific when she was hanging in the freezing mid-air from just a harness.

The building that she was currently climbing from was an amazing structure that stood over the other buildings around it.

She took out a different gun, aiming for the glass a few feet away. Small beeping explosives stuck to the panes, she had given herself a little over thirty-five minutes to get in and out.

She planned to be standing with her father and Jason when the explosives went off and she had programmed "the bat" to fly by the penthouse too. If all went well, she wouldn't have to worry about being a suspect. Maybe even John too.

She had told herself that she had just left those clues at Wayne Enterprises by accident, that it was just a coincidence, but part of her knew that if she _really_ hadn't wanted him at that penthouse fundraiser tonight she would've been more careful. She mentally chastised herself for playing stupid games rather than focusing on the task at hand.

She could still hear the sounds of the city and sirens from far below as she ascended, scaling it until cambering to the roof of the building. She told herself not to look back down as she unscrewed the harness.

* * *

The cold had finally seeped through the expensive material he was wearing, forcing him to give up on waiting for her to get back. He took the dress with him as he descended back down into the warmth. The lights were still off in the penthouse and John could hear the party of people from afar.

* * *

All alarms in the building could not be switched off, but she had gotten around that with a few tricks. The interior looked like your average offices, like a place that sold insurance. She made her way though the maze of office desks, stopping at every automatic door, forcing it to turn on before using her device to unlock it.

Her heart was still beating at a pace similar to that of a mouse and her fingers became moist under the gloves. They always did that when she was stressed. She took tentative breaths.

Finally, the last door opened and she had gotten into the most secure part of the entire building. It was like the inside of a bank vault only it was completely dark. Without her night vision all was pitch black. She had no intention of stealing anything; she only wanted to crack one of the most secure places in Gotham.

She fought the urge to hum a little tune to herself as she took out her little kit in the darkness, taking her time. She knelled as the carefully took out a drill, the sudden shrill sound made her jump a little. She slid two fingers into the circle before carefully pulling back her hand, a few wires between her digits. She squinted though the night vision, separating them. She cut two wires and joined the ends to her piece of hardware, the hardest part was over.

Barbara felt her ear twitch and her body went rigid. She heard something, a vague noise. The tablet that she had also plugged in informed her that it would take about ten minutes to finish. She left it as she looked though the darkness, eyes glowing in her mask like those of a cat in headlights. She changed her lenses remotely, turning them from night vision to infrared before crouching against the wall. Maybe she had just imagined the noise.

* * *

**Y'know the drill readers! Click, type and like in exchange for CHAPTERS!**

**Okay, is there anything else I need to tell you...? Umm...**

**So yeah, with great power comes great responsibility! Lets hope that no one gets their hands on that cool piece of hardware that opens doors! It would make breaking into Arkham a breeze... But WHO will do the breaking in?**

**I promise that we shall see more of the Joker, he has perked up considerably since he saw that newspaper with an article about Batman's apparent return. I wonder what he'll do...?**

**I'll be darned if I know! I'm just the author! **

**Toddle-pip! **

**DonJuan.**

**P.S. This chapter is named after a song (like most of them are). "Keep on your Dress" is a very catchy song by the Pigeon Detectives... I like my British music. **


	12. Caught Red Handed

The noise had not been imagined.

She had just finished pulling out the plugs and shoving the wires back into the hole she had made with a small drill.

She could feel her chest pounding, dull thuds pulsating in her ears. She had a small flashlight attached to the side of her mask; the bright bluish spotlight scanned her surroundings. She put the tablet into her belt and donned her right hand with a knuckle duster. She opened the heavy door that she had turned off, emerging from the over-sized safe.

All seemed quiet- until she turned and found about fifteen men, faces covered and all had guns that quickly proceeded to fire. She was protected as she slid behind the bullet-proof door; the noise of gunshots always brought her back to that night of her childhood. The bullets soon stopped she waited for one man to approach the heavy door that she hid behind. She had left it ajar; it would lock if she closed it. She could hear his boots, every slow thud. As soon as she felt the door move away from behind her back, she had kicked him in the face through the small gap, he feel forward onto her and she hooked her arm around his throat, keeping the large man in front of her. She shouted that that but down their weapons, she knew that in the darkness her eyes glinted menacingly through the mask. They wouldn't- they couldn't shoot her now. She thought that it had gone so well, for the briefest of seconds it felt so right. She was outnumbered and yet, like Batman, she could handle it.

But she had underestimated them, she had underestimated these criminals.

The thud of a bullet reverberated through her chest, taking her breath away. Because of the silencer she could hear the slug cut though flesh along with the sucking sound of a last shuddering breath. The man tensed up and then went limp in her arms, he was killed instantly.

"No!" She automatically wrapped her arms around his chest so he didn't drop to the floor. For a short moment she could only hear her panicked breathing, despite the suit and the training she suddenly felt vulnerable. The most vulnerable she had ever felt. She was a frightened child in her mother's arms. She was the scared child in her dreams. The fear that she suddenly felt changed everything, she was going to run. This was all her fault; her actions had killed a man.

She resorted to throwing a smoke bomb, making a run for it as she ducked down while running for the exit, throwing the pieces of bat-shaped shuriken she ran, they spun into the smoke but she didn't look back. She ran back, retracing her steps and as she sprinted through the office rooms, a bullet flew by her head and into a desk, paper flew into the air. Her silhouette was dark behind the bright city lights that shone though the glass walls of the building. The gun continued to shoot and she continued to duck her head as she zigzagged through the maze of decks and chairs, sometimes leaping over them. She stopped her in her tracks, for the first time, she was hit so hard in the face she saw stars as she stumbled backwards in the dark. Even if it had been light, she would have been unable to see her attackers. About four pairs of hands grabbed for her. They stopped her from moving. She fought blindly as the hoard surrounded her. In her blindness it could have been a thousand hands clawing at her, it made no difference.

"Get the computer!" One ordered to the others, who were struggling to keep her in one place.

"No!" She yanked one arm away before striking out. Her punch was quickly rewarded with a blow to her own jaw.

One man took her tablet, the screen made his face glow. "This is it."

The split-second that they had got what they were looking for, she butted, kicked and knocked the remaining men holding her, one was thrown into a desk of papers. She knew that they would kill her without hesitation now that they had gotten what they wanted.

She had twenty-five minutes left.

* * *

He stood in the penthouse, fully lit once more. The soft light of the quiet room was a welcome change to the crowded party in the other room.

He was standing in an office of some sort, a wall of books and a desk behind him.

The view of the city was blurred, heavy rain streamed down the massive panes. He could see his reflection in the glass as the rain continued to stream down, he almost didn't recognise himself.

He held the dress in one hand, the plum-coloured material pooling to the floor.

He critically assessed his reflection; his profile was unsmiling as he thought about going up to the roof again to see if she was back and looking for her dress in the rain.

* * *

She had left the way she came and she used the grapple gun to swing through the night because there was no time for zip wires. Her breathing was laboured as she made one last swing, landing painfully into the fancy old stone building. She squeaked as she hunched over, trying to deal with the pain before being dragged up to the top, making sure that she avoided getting close to windows.

The rain fell hard and fast as she pulled herself up one more time over the top of the building with a breathless groan, collapsing onto the wet gravel of the roof. Her suit was sleek with water and some of the hair that was tucked into the back of her suit had fallen out.

Her senses had lapsed as she walked, hands shaking. She was too scared to hold them up to the lights on the roof to see if there were any traces of blood ticking down them.

Her heart felt like it was about to burst through her chest, lungs sore and numb and her throat felt like it was closing up. She knew that every second she spent recovering meant that the likelihood of her plan succeeding became smaller.

* * *

He stood listening to the heavy patter of the rain; it drowned out all other noise. He turned around, thinking about getting an umbrella from somewhere. This thought was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a masculine voice interrupting his thoughts.

"Barb…?"

John turned around, dress in hand. The second Jason burst in through; John immediately dropped the dress in a dark pile, kicking it out of sight behind the desk.

Jason paused for a moment and John knew what he had seen it. His eyes looked at the desk and then back at him with suspicion. "Where's Barbara?" His voice had a hint of threat as he glanced around the office.

John began to speak; he had no idea what to say. What could he say? His only option was to admit to what it looked like. Barbara would just have to find somebody else; she would probably forgive him eventually. The smallest part of him almost looked forward to see the look on his face. "Barbara is…"

Next thing two arms were wrapped around Jason's neck. He had been distracted and the arms had caught him unawares, pulling him down into a sleeper hold. It only took seconds before Jason was keeled over and she caught him around the chest.

John breathed an inward sigh of relief as she propped him against a wall so that she could close the door.

John began to say something witty but his smile dropped when he saw her face. He couldn't tell if she was angry or on the verge of tears.

She looked in his direction but it was like she was looking right through him.

"We have seven minutes before the explosion. Did you take my dress?" Her voice was both quiet and serious as she took the dress from him while feeling around for her zip. "Why are you here? Go talk to the Commissioner; you have to be there when it happens. He has to see you. I'll revive Jason and tell him that he fainted."

"When what happens?" He asked, but she had turned away, ignoring him while unzipping her boots. "Fine."

Barbara looked down at her feet as her vision blurred with tears. Tonight was the last time she would ever wear this suit again.

* * *

**Well, folks! How you be doing? **

**I'm very happy that people actually seem you be reading this! Too bad 99.9999% don't REVIEW/****FAVORITE/FOLLOW! *Wags finger***

**Anyhoo! I love criticism, usually I agree with it! **

**So yeah I can't update the same now, since I'm working very hard at the moment. Publishing comics, illustrations and doing commissions... I DON'T KNOW HOW! (I bet some of you are thinking "Well, you sure as hell aren't publishing your writing!" I know I can't write! But we all like to read some guilty-pleasure-crap now and then! Yes?)**

**Joker will be in the next- wait- the chapter AFTER this one.**

**You! Yes, you! Give me a review saying whatever the heck I'm doing wrong! And I'll (try to) fix it!**

**Also: Don Jon- Cannot wait to see this film! Found out the other day that Scarlett Johansson's character in the movie is called Barbara and I had a sneaky laugh to myself... Oh well. WATCH THE FILM. It looks descent.**

**WHY DO I NEVER SHUT UP?**

**BIG LOVE TO Y'ALL.**


	13. Anagnorisis (Edited and EXTENDED)

The lights in the penthouse had come back on after ten minutes and the candles were disposed of. The soft tinkling piano music began again.

Jim Gordon stood, watching the people around him but not participating in the chatter. He was lost in his own thoughts for a while, something that the people who surrounded him seemed to frown upon. As he looked out at the fantastic view, he overheard an empty conversation nearby about politics. He hated it when people talked for the sake of talking.

"Commissioner I'm from the Gazette- any words on Batman?" A reporter had snaked up to him, words shooting from his mouth and almost shouting theatrically. Jim Gordon hated the press.

"No comment." He hated how they were always shoving some voice recorder in your face as they tried extract something that they could twist- a truth they could stretch and exaggerate until it was front page news.

"What about the mysterious d-"

A large pop that echoed throughout the city interrupted the interrogation- loud enough for those who heard it to duck their heads a little. Someone pointed out the east window. The glow of descending smoke slowly expanded as everyone rushed to see some destruction unfold. It had been so long since anyone had seen an explosion. They were drawn to it like moths in the night.

Commissioner Gordon looked past the small crowd as the reporter scurried off to see. He was sure who the Batman was, this time he _was_ interested in the identity of this "Dark Knight". He knew why this Batman didn't show his face, why he kept his head down and the lack of theatrics- until now… "Blake." He said it aloud quietly and gravely, swallowing as he thought about it. He had had his suspicions for a while. He had a motive and had quit the force over a year ago.

* * *

A hand gently slapped his face.

"…Jason? Jason? Detective!"

It didn't take long for him to come around, opening his eyes and rubbing his hand over his face. He looked around, completely disorientated as he was hauled up by the arm. The dizziness quickly stopped.

"You okay? You fainted a few minutes ago."

"I can't remember feeling dizzy…"

The brief sound of sirens below cleared his head a little. Barbara looked worried as she looked out at the windows, biting the inside of her cheek.

"It might've been the drinks. Let's go back. I want to talk to my dad."

"But I don't drink." He mumbled in reply, wondering why she was so eager to go.

* * *

"Yes Commissioner?"

Gordon turned around, disbelief written on his face. He squinted though his glasses as if he was making sure that it really was him. The questions that arose were pushed to the back of his mind as he saw his trusted detective in the crowd.

"Bard, I need you down there. Now."

Jim looked at John wearily once more. The questions would have to wait until more important matters were settled.

"What's happened now?" Jason looked out through the east window, the sight of smoke that glowed in the city lights answered his question.

Jim Gordon turned to his daughter, surprised to see her there too. "Barbara…" she smiled a little grim smile in return.

"Is it, erm,_ him_? Commissioner?" Bard was getting ready to leave.

Shaking his head, Jim replied, "No, he wouldn't."

His words died on his lips as the high pitched sound of an aircraft that moved by in the shadowy night silenced the room.

One elderly man with white hair and a cigar was drinking a large scotch. He paused as he saw it go by the huge glass windows, glancing at the scotch and then back at the window.

* * *

"The Bat" flew by and John watched as Barbara played her part, the shocked and concerned face along with standing close by her father.

"You don't think… Is it?"

John shook his head disapprovingly out of view at her slightly hammy acting. But he did feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

Jim turned to his daughter, a hand on her shoulder as he looked at her. "Get home safe." With a moustached small smile he was leaving.

"Dad?" Barbara stopped him, her voice broke slightly. Her eyes wandered, the emotions that lay beneath her calm exterior were beginning to rise to the surface. Her eyes full of meaning like she wanted to say something more. "There's…" She faltered before mumbling, "Get_ yourself_ home safe."

If Jim Gordon was a man who showed displays of affection in public he would've hugged her then and there, telling his daughter that everything would be fine.

But he wasn't, so he didn't.

"I'll be fine. Let's go Detective."

"You should get a cab _right away_." Jason lingered behind for a few seconds, biding his time with a suspicious glance. "The street will be closed off soon. You could be stuck for hours in traffic."

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Jason looked at her, wondering what had happened to her. Her smile was twitching downwards, facial muscles betraying her.

Giving her a kiss goodbye, she turned her cheek to him as he did so. With a suspicious glance, he left reluctantly.

* * *

At fancy parties, politicians are frequently found, moving from group to group, keen to introduce themselves and to flatter anyone who had money to spare.

This party was no exception.

"Miss Fox! You look ravishing, a vision! I saw you on the cover of one of those magazines the other day, right?"

A woman in her early thirties, slender and beautiful, turned to see one of these men. Her expression conveyed boredom with a touch of contempt. Ever since she helped build a company almost from scratch, she was suddenly a lot more popular with these people. She greeted him politely. The politician died a little inside when he heard her phone buzz a second later.

She looked down, and apologized with relief in her tone. "I'm sorry, I have to take this…" Tamara Fox walked away briskly as she gladly took the opportunity to escape yet another leach.

Alone again, the man scanned the room, only to be joined by a like-minded friend who held a martini. The friend laughed, "Wow. Lots of action tonight, right? How's it going? All set for the rally next week?"

"Negative, what I need is some hot socialite chicks if I'm gonna get any publicity this year." He squinted through the crowd eyes settling on the bar. "Who's that? At the bar?" He took a drink of champagne while his friend noticed Barbara Gordon too.

"That little red? That's the Commissioner's kid. She's been back in Gotham for a while now, his son too apparently."

"Hmm." The politician smirked before taking another drink. "She might look good in print."

The friend laughed a little. "Are you sure? I think she's a _librarian_!"

* * *

Barbara had just finished one of the tumblers that sat in front of her. She was sitting alone and needed something to stop her hands shaking. A man slid up to her but she didn't take her eyes off the glass. John had gone to remove the evidence. She wondered if he was being nice because he pitied her now. She felt like a useless weak wreck, twenty going on two-hundred. As she sat she focused on not vomiting when she saw a dark red cocktail slide across the bar.

The man began, feeling optimistic after seeing the glass she had emptied. "So, you're the Commissioners daughter? By the way, that dress looks great on you."

The alcohol had made Barbara's head feel a little clearer but now that she was coming to terms with reality, she was easily agitated.

The politician took a stool next to her, his forty-something-face smiling. He quickly got to the point. "So, the thing is that I could really use some support on Friday, it's this rally, see? Your dad is always to busy to go to these things but…"

"I'm not really into politics." She leaned on the bar, mind elsewhere.

"Oh, heavens no!" He smiled. "You don't need to know anything about politics, you won't be asked to speak, just pose for a few pictures with…"

She turned, eyes narrowing a little. "No, I _know_ politics; I'm just not into yours. You are the reason why charities in this city are being pushed to the brink. Do you know how much paperwork it takes for a simple fundraiser now? I see this one got the seal of approval though."

She brought another glass to her lips with a hearty sip

He was caught off guard, laughing while inwardly enraged. He awkwardly excused himself, walking away as she spoke with her voice slightly raised over the crowd. "And don't get me started on your plans to cut spending on public services!"

* * *

"…And then they all lived happily in their little house in the woods. The end."

The little girl was tucked under the sheets, resting on her hard shoulder as she stared sleepily down at the book that her mother had just finished.

Marta smiled as she folded the book away, got up and straightened the pink duvet in the soft light of the room.

"Do you have to go now Mommy?"

Marta bent down to kiss the little dark head. "Yes. But I'll be back in the morning, promise. And you can call your big sister if you need anything. Now, kiss me night-night before I go."

Her daughter put her head under the covers and Marta stood by the door, hand on the light switch. She paused when she looked in the little dressing table mirror. She looked out of place in the pink bedroom, with her white hair and black clothes gave the impression that she was completely monochrome.

She was not your average smiling cereal-commercial mom, but she knew that she was a damn good one. Many say that they would kill for their kids; this was something that Marta did on a regular basis.

She wasn't your average hired killer. Most are loners, born alone. They drift though life, living for only themselves until the time comes and they meet their sticky ends, nameless bodies found in the gutter, the pale morning light settling on their faces as some mutt comes sniffing, barking maybe. No fuss is made for the dead who leave no one behind. Marta was different. She had precious things, this made her strong, gave her a determination- she held onto life with a firm grip. She was not going to die because death was not an option.

When she left the apartment her pocket buzzed. Her boss was calling, ready to give her tonight's orders.

* * *

He had lost her.

He had seen her go into the elevator and he had got the next one after it. He had the gear-evidence in a black bag that swung by his side. He looked along the dark pavement where taxis lined the sidewalk, walking at a fast pace.

One taxi was leaving as he spotted her though the glass, he slid in as the vehicle began to move away.

Slamming the door, he saw her slouched in the dark taxi, looking up at the buildings that towered over them. The streetlights shone amber though the widow, the rain on the glass made droplet-like shadows that covered Barbara's face, these shadows slowly ran across her profile. Her face was like stone.

The taxi driver drove on, not bothering to say anything since Barbara didn't protest. He just gave John a suspicious look in the mirror.

He spoke in the darkness, breaking the silence first. "Why is it I'm always running after you?"

The rain got heavier again as the beating sound drowned out the talk show that buzzed noisily from the front of the cab. He looked at the little charms that swung off the mirror. He was sure he saw a bat symbol twirling on one of the chains.

She spoke quietly while her eyes were fixed on the streams of water running down the windows. "I'm sorry."

He was amazed at the apology; he had expected her to say anything but that.

Her head rested on the cold window that was slowly misting, hair shaking with every bump on the road.

"I forgive you." He replied, not quite sure what she meant.

"No you won't, not for this." She looked at him; he was just a dark figure as the lights slid over them. She couldn't see his expression clearly.

"What is it? Tell me." He was sure that she was over-reacting about something. Wasn't she supposed to be haughtily telling him how lucky he was since she saved his hide- again? Didn't her plan work?

She exhaled. She wanted to tell him everything, but at the present moment she couldn't.

He sighed as he remembered how she looked earlier, perturbed was not the word. More like a deer in headlights. They were ten minutes away from her apartment. If she went now he'd be fretting about her for the next few days. He wasn't going to let this slide.

"Driver?" He leaned forward. "Can you take a right here instead?" He looked at Barbara. "That okay with you?"

"I…" She looked both serious and sad. "I don't want to be alone. Not right now." She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

* * *

"The explosion has destroyed most evidence. We only found one injured, sir. But there was more here." Jason Bard stood along side his fellow detective O'Donnell as they reported to Gordon. Officers and members of the fire department walked by them through the commotion. Bard tentatively continued. "We believe that there was no break in, but the injured man was a security guard who was in the high security area on the top floor. He didn't give us much to go on but he didn't have any good reason to be up there…"

"Bard, we've talked about this. It's not our job to do background checks on every security guard in this city!"

"Yes sir, but this could fit in with the back mask thing- men with no previous criminal records suddenly ganging up with strangers and-"

He was interrupted by someone from the fire department who gravely told them that a body had been found.

Jim took off his glasses; he was tired and needed to go home and change. He rubbed the glasses before putting them on again. He wondered what to do. This was clearly the Batman's doing and he had no loyalties to this one. This Batman had not been seen in weeks, there was no mention again of apprehending that pyromaniac that the papers called "Batgirl" and he felt like he was being left in the dark.

His phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. It was his son. Probably ringing about Christmas plans. This year they were going to spend it as a family.

When one area of your life starts to go well, the other goes up in smoke. That's the way it always was.

* * *

The drive was long, or at least it seemed that way. They had left the city lights and after miles and miles of darkness they finally got to a grand entrance, passing it and branching off to a small lane.

The driver looked slightly suspicious as he turned to look at them both once he reached the end of it. Beyond the trees the modest old house where he resided could not be seen.

Barbara insisted that she pay. "I'm the one who doesn't sleep all day, remember?"

He didn't say anything, he was just glad that the Barbara he knew was returning a little.

* * *

She entered the house and in the darkness a television was still on. Barbara sat on the couch; she was to cold to take off her coat.

She sat, watching the mute screen. It was playing some old movie. "I always keep the T.V. on too."

"What?" He was coming down the creaky stairs behind her with a bundle under one arm.

"The T.V. It makes living alone easier." She looked around the room before her eyes closed a little. "It's funny how you never really get used to living alone, no matter how long you've been doing it."

The place was old-fashioned, the kind a grandma would like if there had been ornaments and cushions instead of just a few cardboard boxes decorating the place.

She blinked as lamp was turned on behind her. Her voice was still quite hoarse. She looked down at the rug in front as he dumped a pile of blankets on top of her. "Pink fluffy rugs?" Was all that she could manage as she put a patchwork quilt over her shoulders.

He walked into the kitchen as he replied. "This place belonged to the Manor's house keeper and her daughter years ago apparently. I don't really do the whole re-decorating thing." He closed the curtains over the old window. "When I move to a new place I never really bother to change anything. It's just a habit. I guess I'm not used to staying in one place for long." He looked at her, feeling a little awkward in the formalwear. "Do you want anything? We got coffee, tea, water?"

She appeared to be not listening as she started, looking absently at the screen in front of her. It was an old western film. "I'm sorry that I always gave you a hard time, I never meant it." She almost smiled as she glanced at her hands. "I think maybe it was because you reminded me of the jocks that made my life hell in high school. And then there's fact that you are so nosey."

"What happened tonight? You hit your head?"

She was quiet for a moment, "A…" she inhaled then exhaled. "A man died tonight." She closed her eyes as she continued. "It was my fault."

* * *

"After the Harvey Dent thing my mom and dad thought that it would be a good idea to leave Gotham for a while- to take a holiday away from it all in the mountains. It was around this time that I had skipped a few grades in school, I hadn't made many friends in my new classes so I had been allowed to bring a friend. Her name was Bess." She closed her eyes as she spoke in the soft light. "Then there was James."

"Your brother?"

"Yes. He was a little older than I was; the apple of my fathers eye. After the ordeal that with Dent he had been quiet for days- not because he was upset, but like he was contemplating. I have to admit that it scared me a little. He always seemed perfectly normal, maybe a little shy until the day I'd find him dissecting my pet mouse or something."

She realized she was going off-topic and went back to her story. "So we got to the mountains and we stayed at this cabin. It was mostly okay, until the third day. That morning Bess could not be found, we thought she had gone for an early morning walk but we couldn't find her. We never did."

She cleared her throat as it closed up a little. "That's when I became interested in crime and what my dad did. When this had happened there had been a serial killer on the loose in Gotham at this time, 'The Peter-Pan Killer' was what the papers called him. Apparently he came in through windows and took children as they slept. My dad had been in charge of this investigation and this killer was the number-one suspect. But I had other ideas." Opening her eyes she looked at the ceiling while continuing. "A few days after Bess had disappeared I saw something that belonged to Bess in James' hand. A key with a chain attached to it." She quickly concluded her story, not wanting to bore John. "This was the final straw from my mom, she felt like Gotham would follow my dad wherever we went, so they separated. We moved to Cleveland and Dad stayed here. They never solved the case."

"Did you ever tell Jim what you saw?"

"I tried, many times. But how could you tell a man that his beloved son might be a killer? Besides, after I had left for college James had been institutionalized. I knew that he couldn't hurt anyone in there. Then I found that he had been permanently released from Arkham recently. Apparently he's cured now; they say that this new medication helps people develop empathy. I'm skeptical. Wow, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this!" She smiled as she covered her face with a hand. "You should've told me to lighten up a little!"

John was sitting there, listening. It suddenly all made sense. Her motives, personality and everything else came together as he finally had a better understanding of her. She didn't become a vigilante as an act of rebellion against her father or simply for the excitement and adrenaline. She was another person who knew death and injustice at an early age, who grew up a little detached from everyone else with their normal adolescent problems that seemed so trivial.

"Y'know, that guy who got shot tonight, you shouldn't blame yourself."

"If I hadn't gone there, they wouldn't have shot him." She brought the blanket up to her chin.

"But he was prepared to kill you; he would've done it in a second. It's not easy, but they made their choice."

She looked across the room to the chair that he was sitting in, "Shockingly, this isn't making me feel any better. Forget it. I'm going to sleep now."

* * *

**I updated this chapter, giving it more! Ladies and Gentlemen! We are at chapter thirteen! Do you want more? I can't hear you! **

**So this is basically my outlet when I'm not toiling over art work! I'm procrastinating as I type! It's a hard life... If I finish part three I might even do some illustrations and use them for covers! DUN DUN! **

**IF I FINISH PART THREE.**

**Thanks for the R&R's- THESE KEEP ME GOING. No R&R? No chapter. Life is tough kids.**

**Also: Criticism? I like criticism. Le Joker is coming in the next chapter. WITH A BANG. A BIG UN'**

**Follow so y'all don't miss it!**

**P.S. In true Nolan style, I make villains in some way likable. Marta is a character who I really love. A killing machine with a heart. Aw. **


End file.
